Guilt is a Funny Thing, Not in a 'Haha' Way Though
by JenCM
Summary: When Shawn ends up in a completely preventable situation that leaves him worse for wear, Henry and Lassiter take a one-way trip to Guiltina while Gus tries to sell a 'slightly used' Lazy Boy and Juliet is just caught in the middle of the mess. Shawn Whump
1. 13 minutes

.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter One: <strong>

**13 minutes**

It had been three very, very long days for Gus.

This was his current mantra as he pulled into the awaiting parking space in front of the Psych office building. Bags already forming under his eyes, he took one last look at the clock underneath his dashboard before shutting off the blue Echo with a sigh.

'6 am…' He mentally groaned, '4 hours of driving straight. I'll be lucky to catch an hour nap before work.'

It wasn't that he didn't enjoy attending the completely-paid-for pharmaceutical conventions that Central Coast had to offer. In fact, any other time Gus would thoroughly enjoy the time away from Santa Barbra to divulge in the wonders of discovering new medicines and prescriptions, all the while interacting with his fellow kind. It was what he would call his 'trip back into the normal world'

Sadly, the long week of juggling his full-time job and cases at Psych seemed to suck away any energy he had left over to relish the wonders of the 'normal world' After a weekend of work-related learning at the convention, the 4 hour drive home left him feeling as though he spent a month in his car.

He didn't blame anyone but himself, seemingly taking on more than he could handle even while knowing he had a packed weekend in front of him.

Still, Gus couldn't help but find himself a little bitter as he approached the Psych building. He would never blame Shawn for the lack of enjoyment he had at his – what was it that Shawn called it? Drug seller meeting? Yeah, forget that, he blamed Shawn a little bit. As if that wasn't anything new.

Gus decided he would think of his revenge later. For right now, his plan was to quickly snatch the Central Coast memos that he had forgotten on his desk Friday before leaving town, go home and shower, maybe nap, and start off the work-week with a few cups of coffee.

Monday's sucked, he decided.

Pulling out of his pocket the key for the Psych office, Gus went to unlock the door when his hand stopped just centimeters before touching the lock.

"Wha…" He trailed off, confused.

Just slightly was the door already cracked, the slit not even large enough to be considered any definition of the word 'open' And yet it was. Their office door was unlocked, opened, and waiting for any burglar to take their plasma TV or Wii.

Gus's face went red, 'If I find a homeless bum defecating on my sofas I will KILL Shawn!' He thought as he aopened the door, peering around carefully before stepping inside. Better safe than sorry; it would be his luck that some creep was waiting behind the door with a baseball bat and chloroform.

If he got chloroformed, he would really kill Shawn.

Though a baseball bat wasn't a bad idea…Gus snatched the nearest weapon he found in reach, deciding not to dwell on the fact that a Lethal Weapon box-set wouldn't do all that much damage if he was held at gunpoint or…hell, if the burglar had their toaster he would be screwed.

Rounding off the corner, Gus's eyes darted around the room to find the source of any possible intruders. Couch, desk, desk, chair, trash, sofa, lazy boy…

The search result had his stomach dropping to his feet like a brick, and he could feel his heart resuming its proper beating once he found his breath again.

Though Gus would swear he forgot how to breathe at the sight before him.

"Shawn?"

He discarded the Lethal Weapon DVDs, hearing the faint sound of its abandonment to the floor as he rushed to the Lazy Boy chair. "Shawn!" The whisper turned to a shout, and as his brain tried to comprehend the situation, Gus fell on his knees in front of his friend.

His ears pounded as blood rushed through his head. He could barely hear the sound of his knees cracking on the ground, or his hand slapping against Shawn's face harder as the seconds went on. His attempts went from slight taps to full-on hitting.

It was a disturbing sight. It was a sight he never wanted to remember. Shawn lay sprawled, literally sprawled on the lazy boy. If it weren't for his once-soaked clothes sticking to the leather, he would've slumped to the floor long ago. His clothes damp, his skin muddy and his hair a combination of both, his friend looked like he had just hitch-hiked from Kansa to the sunshine state.

Gus panicked, "Shawn, this isn't funny!" He fumbled for his cell phone, his hands suddenly very cold – because why else would they be shaking like a hypothermia patient? It wasn't shock, that's for sure. Fearless Guster didn't do shock. "Come on Shawn, answer me!" Gus practically screamed. Okay, maybe shock wouldn't be such a bad assessment.

Panic wasn't the word anymore. Because Shawn's face was deathly pale – no, pale wasn't the word for it. His face was gray, like a corpse, and the dark circles under his eyes put a gothic teenage girl to shame. And his skin was cold. Like a corpse.

And Gus could barely feel a pulse.

The 911 operator said an ambulance would arrive in about 13 minutes. 4 hour trip be damned, the next 13 minutes was the longest of his entire life.

Gus would do just about anything right now to trade the current sight of his best friend for a drunk, peeing homeless bum.


	2. You don't text message 'accident'

**Chapter Two: **

**You don't text-message 'accident'**

Henry Spencer knew his day was going to be good from the moment he woke up.

Just like you could tell when the day was going to be bad, and that every minute was going to drag, he could feel the exact opposite. The sun was finally shining after 2 days of treacherous storms, he had woken up feeling refreshed, his gutters were finally cleaned after pestering his son for weeks to do the job, and he felt like going fishing.

So doing just that, Henry was preparing his tackle box when his cell phone began to ring.

He knew it would be a good day…and that should've been a sure sign that things were going to go to hell in a handbasket.

"Henry Spen-"

"It's Shawn."

The receiver on the other line wasn't his son; not biologically anyways. He could always tell Gus's voice from Shawn's if he were half-deaf and had althimzers, a fact that the two couldn't seem to grasp onto. Gus's attempts could mark millions, but no matter how many times he tried covering for Shawn's troubled butt when the boy broke curfew, he knew the voice on the other line wasn't his son.

So the greeting wasn't a "Hey, it's Shawn, I broke your lawnmower, bye!"

It was more of a "Shawn's up shit creek without a paddle; you have a canoe to spare?"

Henry froze; his throat tight as he tried to breathe through the numerous possibilities' swarming his brain. After all, the last time he received this type of phone call, it was to tell him that Shawn was shot and missing. It couldn't be worse than that, could it?

He took a deep breath and exhaled out the words, "What now?"

Gus didn't answer. His lack of an answer was an answer enough. It was bad.

He wanted to go fishing, and it was bad. And for some reason, this pissed him off. And the fact that something so frivolous pissed him off made him even angrier. He didn't have time to dwell on the stupidity of that situation, not that he wanted to anyways.

Gus's voice cracked through the phone, _"Santa Barbra Cottage. You…you need to come."_

Henry felt as though pins and needles ran through his nerves at those words. There were only a few times he had heard Gus sound so distraught, and if his memory served him right, when his son was shot he had been more composed than this moment. The man he had known for 30 years sounded like he was on the verge on a break-down.

And he wasn't asking him to come; he wasn't even suggesting that he come. Gus was _telling _Henry that he needed to go.

It was bad.

He didn't waste any further time on the phone. He knew what he needed to know, and Gus said what was needed to be said. So with a flick of his wrist, Henry flipped the cell shut and tossed his tackle box aside.

It took one minute to make his day go from good to bad. God-help any officer that pulled him over for speeding, because if anything happened to make bad go to horrific, he wouldn't have the patience to keep himself together.

He kept his eyes focused on the road ahead, not once letting any thought but yellow or white lines cross his mind. God help him, if he didn't stare at the road he was racing down, he would open his phone and be reminded of the two missed calls he received from his son just hours ago.

* * *

><p>"Are you sure?" Karen ran a flustered hand through her hair, pressing the phone tighter to her ear as if it could change the answer. "Okay, I'm sending down my Head Detective."<p>

She paused, listening intently to whoever was on the other line. It only took seconds for her demeanor to snap from shaken to angry, "I don't care if the situation is as simple as baking cookies, Officer! I want my best detective on the case, and if you don't deem that fit then-"

Once again, the Chief paused as she listened to the other line. She let out a breath of air she didn't realize she had been holding, her shoulders dropping with what seemed to be the weight of the world. "It's good to hear you understand my prescriptive, Officer Greene. I'm sending Detective Lassiter to the scene now."

With that, she set the phone back on the desk. Explaining why she wanted her Head Detective on a simple 11-79 proved to be harder than she thought, but opinions be damned, anyone on her payroll deserved the best when becoming an official case.

Karen had hoped she would have more time to gather her thoughts after calling Lassiter into her office, but the door opened far quicker than she could've imagined.

"Detective," She started, "I'm sending you to a scene. I need you there before one of the idiots on Greene's team takes over."

Carlton, slightly surprised, straightened out the tie on his chest. While he wouldn't disagree with her statement, the Chief usually wasn't so blunt with her opinions about her employees, though it wouldn't be the first time he replaced Greene in a crime scene.

"Of course. What's the locat-"

Not letting him finish, Karen answered, "Psych Detective Agency."

A beat. Carlton paused, letting the information soak in. Then, almost as quickly as he hesitated, he spoke up. "Oh for the love of God, what did Spencer do now!"

Karen could read her Head Detective like a book. The only time she had ever pinned him wrong was when she could've sworn Gooch was his soul mate. Okay, soul mate was a strong word, but she _really _thought those two would work well. Even when pinned for murder, while pained to strip him from his badge, she knew it wasn't him. Like stated, she could read him like a book.

So right now, Karen could tell he was livid with her for taking him away from his paperwork to do anything related with Shawn Spencer. He was like a child being told to share his toys. And here she was, being the mother who had to explain why he had to do such.

Frustrating, to say the least.

"Carlton…" Her words held more power than she could've imagined. Lassiter knew something was wrong when she used his first name. The anger that surrounded him suddenly vanished.

"Carlton, I was just informed that Mr. Guster called an ambulance to the Psych office about an hour ago. He discovered Mr. Spencer unresponsive and barely with a pulse, with the building doors open though nothing damaged or stolen."

Maybe she peaked his interest, or maybe he actually cared, because Karen found it difficult to continue as his emotions became easier to read on his face. Curiosity and concern were hard to decipher with the man, but he was obviously feeling something.

She took a breath in, "Mr. Spencer is currently in unstable and critical condition at Cottage Hospital."

"Alcohol? Drugs?"

Karen shook her head at his questions, "No, neither. We don't have any information on his condition, but the paramedics have stated that it looked to be trauma. An accident, beating, blunt force…it's unknown, but nothing done intentionally."

She looked him straight in the eye, "I need you to figure this out, Lassiter."

He nodded, slowly but surely, as if he was processing the information with struggle. "O'Hara?" Carlton asked.

"Let her know the situation. I don't want her at the crime sc-Psych, I don't want her there." Karen tripped over her words, realizing that internally she fought to connect the Psych agency with being a possible murder scene. "Have her at Cottage; I want updates on Mr. Spencer's condition. And I want re-traces on his steps. Get what answers you can about where he was last night."

Carlton hadn't realized that he had zoned out, not until the Chief's voice cut through the fog in his brain. "Lassiter!" His head snapped up, looking into her slightly irritated eyes.

"I'm on it." He simply stated.

Karen nodded her head, the confusion never leaving her face as she dismissed the detective from her office.

He left the room, and she settled back into her chair, wondering how exactly she was supposed to go about her day now that only one thing impaired her thoughts…

Lassiter walked to his desk, his cell phone in one hand as his other collected his car keys and other various belongings. He quickly exited out of the numerous 'missed call' screens to open his text inbox.

'O'Hara. Accident. Spencer. Cottage Hospital. Chief wants you there asap.'

Probably not the best message he's ever sent her, but if he was on the case, he was going to treat it like any other person. And that's exactly what he would've done if some John Doe got himself in a mess of trouble. She could understand that, right?

In the back of his mind though, he knew this wasn't just any John Doe. Worst, he knew he probably wouldn't be heading to an accident scene if he had just done one damn favor for Spencer last night.

Carlton let the police scanner blast out the thoughts threatening to haze his mind as he drove to the Psych agency.

* * *

><p>'O'Hara. Accident. Spencer. Cottage Hospital. Chief wants you there asap.'<p>

Juliet was the definition of angry. She could care less that it was her only day off from work and she was being sent on a case. No, waking up to the most insensitive text message her partner had ever sent her made her feel like she was on fire with rage, and the drivers of route 89 were currently dealing with that aftermath.

Tact may be something Lassiter never had, but Shawn being one of her closest friends, he decided to tell her THAT way?

She slammed her hand down on her horn, warning the driver in front of her that if he didn't speed it up, he would feel her wrath.

The situation made her more angry than worried. She had called Gus nine times now, each time receiving the same voicemail message she got the last. For hopeless sake, she called Shawn but gave up at the third time she got his machine.

Being a cop, she knew the possibility of outcomes ranged from a paper cut to a sliced femur artery. And the only indication of anything she had received so far was 'Spencer. Accident.'

So throwing caution to the wind, and willing to accept any shouts and harsh words that were to come, Juliet dialed her partner as she weaved into the left-lane of the highway leading her to Cottage Hospital.

It took five rings, but he picked up.

She refused to let him have the first word, "What the-" A loud honk from behind her cut through her sentence, "-ell is wrong with you, Carlton!"

Juliet fought to ignore the irate driver behind her, suddenly wishing she had police lights to switch on in this situation. Sadly, a badge didn't do her a whole lot of good doing 90 down the freeway.

"I don't know any more than you right now, O'Hara. Chief just informed me, so-"

"You couldn't even call me! I had to wake up to the most unnerving text of my life? What's going on!" She was screaming at this point, truly not caring that her words running together in panic.

Juliet said the only thing she could think of in her fit of rage, "You don't text-message 'accident', Carlton!"

There was no answer on the other end, just a deep sigh. Juliet had a disturbing feeling she wouldn't be getting answers for a lot of things; not for a while now…


	3. Guilt? There's an app for that

**Chapter Three:  
>Guilt? There's an app for that<strong>

Gus had always wanted to be a doctor.

The entire idea of working in the medical field had been a passion of his since his pediatrician handed him a blue lollypop, magically curing his sniffles and sore throat at the young age of 6. His mother would later explain it was the antibiotics that did the trick, causing him to become fascinated with a little white pills ability to cure him from what felt to be death.

Two days after that doctor visit, Shawn sliced his finger on the kindergarten teacher's scissors, and Gus promptly discovered that he had goreaphobia. It went without saying that being a doctor wouldn't be on his to-do-list in the near future.

However, being a pharmaceutical salesman had its benefits. Gus had lost track of how many times his knowledge of medicine and drugs had helped him and Shawn tremendously on a case. And then there was the fact that his salary helped pay the bills and then some for their little adventures during his moonlighting work.

Right now though, the benefits he reeked weren't nearly as glamorous. For example, Gus could name three of the four people behind the nurses' station, one of which had helped him not long ago convince a doctor here at Cottage to start prescribing the latest acetaminophen on the market.

He could tell you exactly how to get from the first floor to the last and all the detours that came with it, and which foods at the cafeteria to avoid. Gus had a good portion of his business clients at this place, being that it was Santa Barbara's main hospital, but being a family member in the waiting room was a business he strived to avoid most of his life.

Gus wasn't sure how long he had been occupying the waiting room of the ER. There was a clock on the wall behind him, but he had become too consumed with the struggle to gather and organize his panicked and disarrayed thoughts to give it a passing glance. He knew he was going to have to call out of work soon; if it wasn't too late already. He had been planning to do it straight after calling Mr. Spencer, but something inside of him had snapped and the situation became a little too real for comfort.

As it stood, the only thing he could handle now was trying to keep his hands from trembling.

He _should_ be pissed. It was the most inane thought he'd have so far, but Gus knew it was true. He had been gone for the weekend, three days - and Shawn had managed to get himself a free ride to the hospital with blaring sirens included. His friend was irresponsible, reckless, careless, immature and...

And the possibility that he was now in the morgue latched too strongly onto Gus's mind.

Damn it, his hands were shaking again.

As he stood from the waiting room chair, Gus rubbed his eyes, trying to relieve the building pressure behind his skull. Sitting in panic wasn't going to do him any good, and he honestly preferred _not_ to start Lamaze breathing again. While effective, he had lost any chances of winning a date with the brunette nurse behind the station when he had to resort to that, how long ago was it now...

He dared to look at the clock, _'20 minutes? I've only been here 20 damn minutes!' _

Just when he swore that he would lose it, Gus could see a very familiar man come galloping through the automatic doors of the hospital. For the first time since he entered the Psych office earlier that morning, Gus felt a tad bit of relief. It was like cold water on a hot burn, and he wished he could savor the feeling longer than it lasted.

"Mr. Spencer!"

Henry practically skidded across the floors when he latched eyes with Gus, rushing past the nurses' station directly to him.

"Gus!" He tried to control his voice, knowing that if he didn't the panic he felt boiling at the tips of his toes would come to the surface. He was a cop for God's sake, or at least still one at heart. He had held it together at crime scenes too gruesome to recount, he could keep it together in the pitiful waiting room of a hospital...

Right?

Henry took a deep breath in, "What the hell happened, Gus? I want answers, and I swear to God if the kid screwed himself over then you better not cover for his sorry ass!"

Gus sputtered, as if trying to remember how to form a correct sentence.

Though as much as he wanted to say otherwise, Henry secretly hoped his son _had_ done something stupid and trivial to get himself into whatever mess this was. However, whether it was Gus's inability to explain the situation or the clear-tell signs of shock the salesman was experiencing, Henry knew this wasn't some bullet to the foot from a misaimed firearm.

_'It's bad,'_ His mind told him. The entire ride to the ER and he thought the same thing, _'It's bad...'_

"Gus," Henry started, "Just tell me what happened."

"I...I don't know. I have no idea." Gus managed to say, his shaking hand running down his head, "I found him...in the Psych office about, uhm, at uh, 6. I don't know what happened. I've been away all weekend, I haven't spoken to him since Friday and I found him and he barely even had a pulse and filthy, god he was filthy and damp and I-"

"Gus!" Henry grabbed Gus's shoulders, directing him down into the chair below and wishing that he didn't notice how hard the man's arms were shaking at this point.

"Slow down, Gus. Tell me what you _do _know." Because so help him, he was going to lose it very soon if he didn't have some information to process.

Gus took a deep breath in, and then a deep breath out. In fact, he repeated this process numerous times before finally speaking up, "All I know is that _they_," he pointed in the direction of the nurses' station, "don't know anything yet. Shawn...he looked like crap, but I can't remember seeing anything like a gun or stab wound. H-he looked sick, Mr. Spencer."

Gus looked up, finally finding eye contact with the elder man, "They said he was crashing when they loaded him into the ambulance."

Henry slowly found his way into the seat next to Gus, the words seemingly breaking him. He never stopped talking, rambling on about a wet Lazy Boy and Lethal Weapon movies, but Henry's mind had long since drowned out both that and the busy hospital sounds around him.

He could still hear them of course; Gus's rambles and the intercom system requesting assistance or paging staff, shoes clicking on the tile floor and the obnoxious crying from the toddler across from them. It was just that his own thoughts screamed so deafening loud over everything else that as his hand found its way to his face, he cupped over his mouth as if to keep himself from letting his thoughts escape through his lips.

_'He looked sick,'_ Gus had said, the words replaying in his head like a record._ 'He looked sick...'_ continuously overlapped with _'Hey Dad, it's me. Can I get a ride?' _

Carlton had always imagined that if there were ever over five police cars, forensics and a gathering group of gossipers surrounding the Psych office; it would be because Spencer had finally cracked and found a way to rob a bank or kidnap some poor celebrity.

So as he ducked under the bright yellow crime scene tape, finding his way to the entrance of the building, he couldn't help the sickening feeling from building at the bottom of his stomach. He could still hear the Chief's voice in the back of his mind,

_'I need you to figure this out, Lassiter.' _

He mentally groaned, wishing the words would stop repeating themselves through his head. Out of all the things he had heard so far today, his conscience decided to play loop on that one? O'Hara practically chewed and spit him out for his 'unruly, tactless and cruel' text message, and while he would still say he was in no wrong with it, he had come to realize just how much the 'psychic' meant to his partner.

Sue him if it had been a few years or decades since he experienced a friendship. He said what needed to be said.

_'I need you to figure this out, Lassiter.'_ Of course she did. Because this was personal. And he hated personal cases more than anything in the world. It wasn't that it added pressure or anything, but...

Damn it, he hated when it got personal.

There was an eerie feeling walking into the office. Vick wasn't kidding when she said nothing was touched, not one item was damaged and the place looked to be in tip-top shape for a possible murder scene. _'Possible, Lassiter. Just don't forget that.'_ He bitterly thought.

The further he stepped into the building, the more people he was met with. Thankfully, there was one face he not only found familiar, but grateful to see. "McNab!" Carlton watched as the officer looked up, and it was clear from his expression that the thankfulness Carlton was feeling wasn't shared. He had never seen the officer look so shaken before, and the both of them had shared some unpleasant investigations before.

Again, he hated when it got personal.

"Sir," Buzz directed him over to the corner of the room, where the two of them and one forensics guy stood. "It's the only evidence so far. The rest of the building is clean."

Carlton stared at the floor, giving the carpet and pile of blood an incredulous look as if it would respond back and say 'No, wait, I'm not the only piece of evidence - there's an assault weapon in the closet!'

Seriously, this was it? This was all he had to run with? He watched as forensics worked to get samples of the blood collected, but he still couldn't wrap his mind around it. It was a good size of liquid running from the very squeeze of the corner to the outskirt of the wall where the room began. It was obviously vomited or expelled from the body in some sort of way; diluted with bile and watered-down.

"The mud tracks from the door lead from here," Buzz stated, turning around and leading the way further into the room, "to here, stopping at the chair, where Gus found him at approximately 6 am."

Carlton pondered, trying to re-create whatever incident happened. "Any witness's?" He asked.

Buzz shook his head, "So far, no. But we're still questioning the area, sir. The rain washed away the outside shoe marks, so we don't know what direction he came from. However, there are security cameras over by Whitby's Coffee House that, once we get a permit to access, we'll be able to see if Shawn was coming in east or west."

Ugh, permit. Carlton groaned at the thought. He knew that with his luck it would take a day to access that footage; time he didn't have. Looking around the Lazy Boy, he tried to put the pieces together, wondering how exactly Spencer got himself into this mess. It was then that he noticed the four miniature flags on the left side of the Lazy Boy, creating a crooked square shape that indicated -

"His iPhone, sir." Buzz's words rung in his ears with annoyance only Shawn could manage to find. He was tempted to remind the officer who was the detective on the case, but when the man spoke again, he provided information too valuable to shoot down.

"The only DNA found on it is his, though there were traces of bloody finger prints, most likely from what's assumed to be the vomited blood. We're trying to unlock the phone to see if there were any calls that could be a lead, but we're not having any luck. Detective Dobson has been contacting Apple for the past half an hour; they're refusing to hand over any information."

"And let me guess," Carlton scuffed, "None of you have even thought to call Guster?"

Buzz paused, and Lassiter didn't bother letting him even try to answer that question. He pulled out his cell phone, quickly dialing O'Hara while he wondered if he was the only one at SBPD that had damn common sense. He sure as hell wouldn't be surprised if he was.

2 quick rings, and then - _"Carlton! Have you-"_

"Ask Gus what the password is to Shawn's phone."

There was a beat on the other line, and he could faintly hear the sound of ranting, no doubt the elder Spencer if his skills proved to in use, which meant O'Hara had finally found her way to Cottage. While not focused on anything other than her answer, he couldn't help but catch some portions of Henry's tirade that lead him to believe the retired cop was angry about the SBPD being involved.

He didn't have time to dwell on it before a voice crackled through his phone, _"Silly pants jackson. Why, Carlton? What do you ha-"_

"I'll call you back." He hung up the phone.

Damn it, O'Hara was going to serve him on a French platter for that one.

Choosing to ignore her for the time being, he quickly made his way into the poor excuse of a kitchen that the office had, where he found Dobson yelling to some idiot of an Apple employee on his phone.

Lassiter didn't even bother to talk to the man; he simply snatched the iPhone out of his hands, smoothing the plastic evidence bag as tightly as he could to access the touch screen.

"What are you - Lassiter! Knock it off! No, no, not you - oh screw it, thanks for nothing!" Dobson shut his phone, staring at the detective with heated eyes. "I'm in the middle of something here, you know!"

Carlton didn't take his eyes off the phone, "Shut up, Dobson." He scrolled through the screen with ease, finding his way to the recent call menu just as Buzz found his way to the two of them.

"You find anything, sir?"

Carlton didn't know what he was hoping for. It wasn't like he had expected Spencer to call for pizza after expelling a pound of blood and vomit. Maybe he had hoped for it, he truly didn't know at this point. He tried to keep his thoughts together, but the longer he looked at the phone, the more it seemed like a gusting wind had come to blow them apart.

"Yeah," He said distractedly, "I did."

Buzz darted his eyes between Lassiter and the phone, "Well? What is it, sir? Did anyone call him? Did he call anyone?"

Carlton never looked up, he just sighed. "Yeah...me. He called me."


	4. Communication via phone calls

**Chapter Four:  
>Communication via phone calls<strong>

Buzz wasn't the type of person to be easily flustered; he had long since passed those days shortly after graduating from the academy. Though he still remembered the first time he had lost his lunch at a crime scene, he also remembered the first time he looked at a disemboweled body and shrugged it off. There were some things that you just adapted to after being exposed to as many brutal and vicious sights that he had.

Standing in the seating room of the Psych Agency, he felt confused. There was no reason for him to be feeling the way he was; unnerved, disturbed and troubled. As an officer, he had seen much worst things in his lifetime, but for some reason his mind couldn't stop replaying the pieces him and Lassiter had put together.

_'What the hell happened to ya, Shawn?' _he found himself asking.

He couldn't imagine how long Shawn had been alone, hurting, in need of help. The thought made his stomach flop. Had it really just been two days ago they were in this same office, playing foosball together without a care in the world?

Watching as the investigation team around him wrapped up the scene, Buzz felt pressure building beneath his eyes, and he sighed, wishing it wasn't just 9 in the morning. He still had the rest of the day to get through. It was hard to believe it had only been two hours when it had felt like a lifetime.

Lassiter had left not long ago, mentioning something about a lack of responds from O'Hara and a frustrated Chief. Buzz had to shake off the shock from being left in charge, but once he recovered, he quickly divulged himself in the process. He would take anything to distract himself from the unknowing of Shawn's condition

The blood had come from Shawn. It was a lot of blood. Ugly, nasty, puked blood. His friend's blood. Buzz felt a shiver run through his body...

They had cleaned up the pooling heap of blood before he had even asked for it to be done. Now, you couldn't even tell that someone had nearly died in this room.

"Officer McNab!"

Buzz looked up at the sound of Dobson, the man with his phone in one hand and a piece of paper in the other. "We just got a call from dispatch. Highway patrol found a motorcycle abandoned in a bush near the intersection of Marine Drive. Plates matched to be Shawn Spencer's."

Buzz instantly envisioned the worst, "What's the condition?"

Dobson shrugged, "Aside from the tail, there's barely a scratch. The back is dented in pretty ugly though. He could've spun out and crashed it, or he could-"

"_Or _someone could've hit him."

The two men stared at each other, both working through the wheels spinning in their brains. Dobson finally broke contact, "It's a possibility, but..."

Buzz shook his head, "No, I know Shawn. Shawn is a _great_ rider. He would never wreck his bike."

"Come on, McNab. It has been pouring cats and dogs over the weekend, the roads have been saturated and-"

"And Shawn crashed the _backend_ of his motorcycle?"

Dobson looked away, never replying. It was all Buzz needed from the man; though not verbally, the detective agreed that something was wrong.

He pulled out his cell phone, quickly dialing the Chief.

* * *

><p>Santa Barbara had received two days of non-stop heavy rain that soaked the ground to the core. After those two days, to see the sun shining as brightly as it was, and to feel the warmth return to the air had civilians rushing to put back on their shorts and take the day to the beach.<p>

So Juliet couldn't help but feel repulsed as she spun her car into the 'visitors only' parking space at Cottage Hospital. It was a gorgeous day, everyone was happy to see the sun shine again, and here she was caught in a hell of not knowing if her friend was alive or not.

_'Friend'_ she had to remind herself. He had a girlfriend, and this situation didn't change any of that. Though she had to be honest with herself, Juliet didn't think she could handle facing Abigail in this type of circumstance again. The last time, Shawn's haunting phone call had lingered so heavily into her mind that she couldn't be with Lassiter as they took his statement.

_'I-I need you to know that...I love you.'_

Harder than necessary, Juliet threw her car into park, the words once again ringing through her ears.

_'Goodbye, Abigail.'_

For the past 45 minutes, Juliet had been racing against time, feeling like no matter how fast she drove or how quickly she ran, the clock was still faster than she was. As if her body was stuck in slow-motion while time was in fast-forward.

She sat in her green buggy facing the entrance of Santa Barbara Cottage, frozen as she stared at the ER entrance in front of her. She had raced from her apartment straight to this very place, barely giving herself time to throw her knotted hair into a pony tail. She was in such a hurry, and yet for two minutes Juliet couldn't move from her car seat, taking in slow deep breaths as she prepared herself for the worst.

She needed this. She needed to collect herself, otherwise she wouldn't be able to walk in there and be the professional she was. Because at the end of the day, this was a case. As personal as it was, she was there to get information. So swinging her car door open, she would do just that.

Juliet was thankful when she finally found her way into the ER, even more thankful that Gus and Henry were practically the only occupants of the waiting room - give or take an elderly couple here and a screaming toddler there. They couldn't be any easier to spot than if they were holding bold signs saying 'We have answers! Come towards us!'

"Gus!" Juliet felt a prick of surprise when Gus looked up and was surprised to see her presence. Not just surprised, but shocked. She couldn't help but return the feeling, not at his presence of course but rather she was disturbed at the amount of worry she could feel vibrating off his body. This wasn't just an 'Oh, he cut himself on the cheese grater and started to bleed out a bit' type of situation.

The look from his eyes, and she felt like someone dropped an anchor in her stomach.

"Juliet?" His voice was soft, caught between his chest and throat."Wha...what are you...why...what are you doi-"

She didn't have the patience to let him finish, "The Chief called me. Well, actually, Carlton texted me. Which by the way, I know he's Lassiter and all, but the man has no tact! I mean, you should see-" Juliet caught herself, shaking away the thoughts to bring herself back on track, "Sorry. Anyways, the Chief called it in."

Henry's head shot up, suddenly making her fully aware of his presence. "Called _what _in?" He didn't ask, he demanded.

Juliet, while shocked, quickly regained her composure. "Shawn. She has a team of investigators at the Psych agency and Lassiter's filing this as a case-"

"You've got to be kidding me!" Henry exclaimed, abandoning his chair in a fit of anger. His outburst startled not only her, but one of the nurses at the station, while Gus seemingly didn't even flinch.

It was obvious that Henry's blood was boiling, and she decided it was best to let him blow off steam as he walked in circles, ranting to the air - or to them, they just decided not to pay attention. Juliet turned to Gus instead, hands out in the air with confusion.

"What happened, Gus?" She asked.

Gus either didn't hear her, or choose not to. "He's a case now?" Heartbroken was a strong word, but, well, Gus didn't sound too cheerful as he looked straight ahead in shock. "H-he's a case? He's a case. Oh my god. He's a case. I c-I..._I...I..."

Juliet quickly grabbed his arm, sitting down next to him, "Gus!" She didn't yell or shout, but the hiss that escaped through her teeth proved strong enough to gain Gus's attention. His head shot over to her, eyes glistening with water and bearing his soul.

If Juliet thought she was feeling panicked, she couldn't imagine how Gus was feeling.

Just when she thought he hadn't heard her, Gus spoke up. "I was at a convention. I haven't seen him since Friday. I...I had to pick up...some papers at Psych. He was there."

Henry, making his way back over to the two of them, rubbed his neck tiredly as he said, "It's been two hours. We haven't heard a damn thing."

Juliet looked up at the elderly Spencer, her expression doubtful. And as if he could read her thoughts, Henry said once again, "Nothing, Detective. We haven't heard one thing."

She wasn't all knowing, and her badge certainly didn't hold the world of knowledge, but Juliet could tell you that the situation just got a much more grave hearing this. While no news meant Shawn was still alive, it surely didn't mean things were okay.

"Now, maybe you could tell me _why_ exactly the department is wasting the city's tax money by throwing a team of investigators into what is surely just my son having eaten too much damn junk food t-"

Gus cut him off, "I'm telling you, Mr. Spencer! Something...was wrong. Something happened. He looked-"

"Sick, I know! I get it!" Henry shouted, "Sick doesn't equal a waste of police department labor hours and a course of-"

Juliet cut through the two men with a, "Shhh!" and they both suddenly noticed that she had pulled her cell phone out from her blazer jacket. Neither of them had even heard her phone ring.

"Carlton! Have you-"

Juliet froze, listening to the other line. Gus decided to use the time free of the spotlight and take a deep breath in, while Henry continued on with his tirade.

"This is ridiculous. I swear the kid screws himself over and he gets the shining limelight from the SBPD. He's going realize how much of an ass he's made of himself when he has to pay back the department for all this. An investigation? Really? What a waste of tax paying m-"

"Gus!" Juliet broke through Henry's rant, not that anyone was truly paying attention. "Do you know the password to Shawn's phone?"

Gus looked up, the bags under his eyes suddenly making themselves known as he pondered the question. It took a minute, but he finally answered, "Uh...silly pants jackson. I think. Unless he's changed it recently."

Juliet turned back to her phone, "Silly pants jackson. Why, Carlton? What do you have so-" It only took two seconds for her face to fall flat, and she pulled the phone from her ear in disbelief.

She scuffed, "I am so serving him on a French platter for that."

Suddenly, she realized how quiet it had gotten. She looked up, seeing that Henry had backed himself into a corner of the room, his sight staring straight through the local news playing on the TV above them. His shoulders were hunched, and it was as if the man had aged twenty years in the past two minutes. Juliet knew he wouldn't admit it, but it was hitting him hard. And while frustrating to listen to, she understood his deflection from the situation with his anger.

Gus hadn't said much to begin with, but she could see his mind was reeling a hundred miles per second. If she had found Shawn, she didn't know if she could...

She shook off the thought. The crying child from before had left the room with his mother, probably while she was on the phone, so the room they occupied, while suddenly more silent, had gotten much eerie.

Slowly, Juliet settled into the chair next to Gus. She would call the Chief in a minute or two; it wasn't like she had any imperative information worth passing on. Vaguely, she pondered what it was that Carlton had found at the office, but not before she managed to let one burning question seep through her lips.

"Has anyone called Abigail yet?"

Gus never looked up when he answered, "Why? They broke up weeks ago. She's in Uganda right now."

Juliet turned away, suddenly finding the blank white wall in front of her as fascinating as Gus did. She couldn't tell you what her thoughts were at this point, because she was pretty sure that she just didn't have any.

Together they waited.

* * *

><p>Karen refused to admit that she had been looking at her phone for the past twenty minutes.<p>

In her defense, she was preoccupied. And no, her thoughts didn't contain Shawn Spencer. At least, that's what she would tell everyone and anyone until she met her grave. Fact was, she had a mounding stack of paperwork that just continued to grow, she had phone calls to return, officers to speak to, and for the past twenty minutes she gnawed at the end of her pen, staring aimlessly at the phone.

Her first thought was, _'O'Hara hasn't called with an update.' _

Her second thought was, _'O'Hara better damn well call with an update.'_

She'd like to tell you that she had a third thought, but, well...she'd be lying.

So when her office door swung open, the unannounced guest making themselves known, she had barely even tried to make herself seem busy. Vick would be happy to look up and see Lassiter at her doorway, saving her the effort of making any excuses.

"Detective, it's been almost two hours. Mind explaining why I haven't heard anything from you or your partner?"

Carlton tried to hide his sigh, but it was about as hidden as Vick chewing her pen. "The investigation has no leads. O'Hara is at the hospital, but she hasn't reported back. McNab is back at the agency wrapping up the scene; I'm here to get a permit for security footage that might give us a clue on Spencer's whereabouts last night."

Karen bit her lip, bothered at the lack of results. "What do you have, detective?"

He threw his hands in the air, "Nothing. Chief, this-"

"Nothing?" She repeated back, eyebrow arched with disbelief. Carlton opened his mouth, closing it again before finding the right words to say.

"Not nothing, but nothing worthwhile. There was blood, only in one corner of the room. There was a lot, but nothing that adds up to a physical wound. Paramedics say it was-"

"Vomited, yes, I was informed. What else?"

Carlton clenched his fists, finding that his patience was growing thinner by the second. While the Chief was, well, the _Chief_, it didn't stop his anger from building. He hoped this wasn't how O'Hara felt with the many times he cut her short today - because if so, Santa Barbara had two very short-fused cops on their hands.

He gritted his teeth together, "His phone. It was found next to the chair where he was discovered. We managed to access it, but it died before we got past the recent call menu."

The pen falling out of her mouth, Karen's face went red as she exclaimed, "Well then charge it, Lassiter!"

"No, Chief," Carlton defended himself, "It died. It's dead. We opened the back and it was crushed. I'm shocked it managed to stay alive as long as it did. Dobson believes it was some sort of impact-damage." The information ended on a silent note, his words trailing off with an emotion that she couldn't pin down.

_'Huh...'_ she thought, pushing aside the papers on her desk as her mind ran through the possibilities. When she had first received the call from one of Greene's investigators, repeating back the 911 call and the details paramedics found at the scene, Vick could've put all her money down on poisoning. She hated to think such a thing, but it wasn't uncommon for recently incriminated criminals to take revenge on those that found them wrong against the law. And with all the cases Mr. Spencer helped the department solve, it added up.  
>Now, she wasn't so sure. It seemed every time she had a grasp on what could've possibility happened, something jumped up to change her deductions.<p>

Carlton's voice broke through her thoughts, "Have you heard anything from O'Hara?"

She looked up, as if suddenly remembering about the detective, and she shook her head with frustration. "No. And the hospital still has no information to give. I'm st-"

Just as she was speaking, the shrill of a telephone broke through her words. Karen didn't hesitate to jump on the phone, nearly knocking over her pen cup holder as she did. "Chief Vick speaking."

With his skills reading the Chief's reactions, Carlton watched on the other side of the desk. He could see her shoulders tense, her mouth drop open just a tad, and her eyes suddenly darken, as if the weight of the world had fallen on her back.

Karen took a deep breath in, "Okay...this is what we're going to do, McNab. Have Dobson finish wrapping up there and I want you at that scene before interstate declares it a 502. Lassiter and I are on are way." Carlton listened with confusion as she continued, "Get every piece of evidence you can. A slither of broken glass is enough - scan that area like a dog, McNab."

She briefly paused, and without saying goodbye she hung up the phone.

"Uh...Chief?" Lassiter asked, watching as she quickly gathered her belongings, "Where are we-"

"Mr. Spencer's motorcycle was found at the intersection of Marine Drive. Their trying to declare it a drunken accident. Let's go."

He wasted no time in following suite, practically jogging to keep up with the woman. They quickly made their way to his Crown Vic, her cell phone in one hand as she threw herself into his passenger's seat.

Carlton chose to ignore her when she spoke on her cell, saying to the other line, "Hey, it's me. I need you to pick up Iris from daycare today."

He was beginning to wonder what she knew that he didn't...


	5. Answers

**Chapter Five:**

**Answers**

Neither Chief Vick, nor Carlton was happy about what they saw at the location of Shawn's abandoned motorcycle. That was because there just wasn't much of anything to see.

When they had arrived, interstate police were declaring the situation a drunken accident. Carlton was taken aback at Karen's persistence in letting her bring a team of investigators down to their location. He had looked around the road over three times, trying to figure out what she saw that he didn't. But it simply wasn't there; fact was if it weren't for her, he would've declared the same thing. An abandoned and broken motorcycle lying in a bush, shards of glass and tire tracks – there was no crime here, just unsolved answers.

But she had her way, and by 11 o'clock the intersection was shut down and blocked off with caution tape. Lassiter had watched with unease as they photographed every inch of Spencer's bike. Interstate predicted that he spun out and crushed the backend on the nearest pole. It made perfect sense, and yet Carlton disagreed.

He would never in any lifetime of his admit this, but McNab was right. Shawn was a decent rider, and rain be dammed, the tracks didn't match up to him spinning out.

Vick had said it before he even considered speaking up. "Someone caused this." She didn't look at him when she spoke. He couldn't bring himself to look at her either. They both knew she was right, and yet there was nothing that they had to prove it. Odds were against them and they were picking at the seams.

He briefly wondered if that's how Spencer felt all the time…

Buzz was the one that noticed a camera sitting on the top perch of the nearest stoplight, a little bit down the roads but just in the right spot to be useful. He had promptly left to get the footage from the city, and with nothing else to do, they had wrapped things up shortly before noon, leaving the scene with hopeless wishes of more evidence. Carlton didn't question the Chief when she demanded they stop at Cottage – it had been almost four hours since O'Hara had arrived there and they hadn't gotten anything besides a 'no word' text message.

So there he was now. Why he was there, he didn't really know. It was awkward, uncomfortable, it made him a little upset and yet he was there.

Juliet jumped from her seat like a scared cat when she saw him enter through the ER doors. Guster and Spencer Number Two barely even glanced up.

"Carlton!" Juliet stumbled over to where he stood, absently shaking her left leg and mumbling something about sitting down too long.

"Any word, O'Hara?"

She shook her head, "Nurses found out he's been in surgery, but that's it."

Carlton's eyes appeared to be more awake, his thoughts echoing the word. _'Surgery?' _Hand moving to his jacket pocket, he found himself removing his badge and trying to make his way over to the nurses' station.

O'Hara quickly stopped him, "Carlton!" He turned around, "Don't you think they've seen my badge plenty of times? It's not going to do any good. They just don't know."

He sighed louder than he cared to admit, knowing that she was right. O'Hara and him had one thing in common, and that was that they didn't sit around and do nothing. He had no doubt the nurses had been tortured by her for the past four hours as she tried to get any piece of word that she could. It frustrated him. As much as he'd like to think it was the inconvenience of wasting a work day in the waiting room of a hospital, he knew otherwise.

"Did you find anything at the office?"

Carlton suddenly remembered that he never informed her about the motorcycle. He shook his head at her question, "Barely. But there was blood, O'Hara. Paramedics believe it was expelled from the body. No doubt puked. His phone was found next to the chair Guster found him in – it died almost immediately when we began to look at it. Dobson cracked open the back and the entire thing was crushed."

Juliet's eyes went wide, "Crushed?" She repeated, almost in shock. "Any leads?"

He shook his head, "McNab got a call from interstate police." Suddenly he stopped, and O'Hara encouraged him to go on. However, his gaze fell to the two family members not far behind them, and Carlton grabbed her arm to pull her further away.

His voice soft, he continued. "Spencer's motorcycle was found discarded in a bush at the section of Marine Drive. The only damage is the tail; it's completely pounded in, O'Hara."

"Hit and run?" She immediately asked.

"I don't know. Interstate thought it was a 502. Chief tossed them aside and had a team take over. They're thinking 481."

Juliet could tell he was hiding something. "And you?"

He didn't reply at first. Carlton simply stared at the badge in his hands, "I don't know." He admitted. Juliet never replied, either not having anything worth saying or at a loss for words.

Carlton knew what nervousness felt like; he remembered the choking feeling of anxiety when his ex-wife told him that she wanted a divorce. He'd like to say it was easy to cut off all connections to emotions, but moments like this proved otherwise.

He remembered when he had first decided to become a cop. It was the best and worst day of his life, mostly the latter. His father had practically disowned him, having a strong hatred for the force. It was no surprise, considering how many times officers had come by to slap a pair of handcuffs on the drunken man and let him spend the night behind bars for domestic disturbances. But the pain of his father's disapproval put aside, Carlton had felt a rush of tranquility at following his dream. He was going to _help _people. He was going to do good for those around him.

He absently ran his fingers against the edges of his badge, never having put it back in his jacket.

_"Spencer, it's 1 in the damn morning. I don't care if you've seen aliens land a spaceship on the Whitehouse. Suck it up and walk home if you have to – and don't call me again, at least not until the sun rises."_

"Carlton?"

Eyes shot up to the blonde detective suddenly in front of him. O'Hara. He could tell that she was still peeved at his lack of sensitivity with his text message, because damn it to hell, she actually cared about Spencer. That's why she had been here for nearly four hours, desperate to get any piece of information she could.

Behind him he could see Guster, seated in the chair and bent over as if to keep himself from puking, _'which he most likely is' _Carlton had thought. A few seats over was the other Spencer, the man that irritated the hell out of him, possibly more than the 'psychic' spawn of his. The Spencer that insisted on acting like a cop when he retired a long time ago. And the same one that spent 7 hours running and hitchhiking through the woods to find his son with the mere clues sent via a gibberish text.

And here he was, the asshole of a detective that sent away a cry for help. The thought made him sick. _'How were you supposed to know, Lassiter? You couldn't have. You still don't. Get over yourself already.'_

It was easier said than done. Carlton's shoulders heaved with stress. "O'Hara…" he had started, but his eyes made the mistake of finding hers. Damnit, this wasn't hard – he didn't do anything wrong!

"O'Hara, there's…" he sighed, "There's something else you need to kno-"

"Karen!"

The hell? Carlton looked over, finding that Henry had shot up from his seat and was quickly making his way towards them. He didn't understand the man's reaction until he smelt the familiar perfume of their Chief make its way over to his nostrils.

_'The Chief,' _He thought, _'I almost forgot she was with me…'_

Karen joined the three, Gus still sitting on his own. "Henry, has there been any news?" She immediately asked.

Henry ignored her question with his own, "What the hell are you doing here, Karen? Is this about the case? Let me tell you, there is NO case. Drop it now and-"

"_Henry_!"

Uh-oh. Even Henry had shut his trap at that tone, and Carlton knew keeping that man quiet was as impossible as shutting up the other Spencer. All three of them knew better than to mess with Vick when she put her foot down like that.

"Answer my question." Karen said. "What have you heard?"

Henry, tail beneath his legs, shook his head. "Nothing. Around 10o'clock the nurses finally figured out that he was in surgery. That was two hours ago."

Carlton was the only one that heard Gus practically mumble the statement, "It's almost been six hours." The man had said it to no one in particular, but he couldn't help and overhear it.

"A case, Karen? Is it really that slow of a day at the precinct? I know Shawn has done some stupid-ass things before, but-"

Carlton scuffed_, 'Well that's an understatement.' _

"Henry, Henry!" Vick cut him off. "Henry…there's something you need to know."

The Chief had managed to not only gain the elder Spencer's attention, but Juliet, his own, and even Guster, though the latter never rose from his seat.

Karen inhaled deeply, trying to quail her emotions. "I have to be honest with you. With all of you," she started, taking a passing glance at the two detectives to her right.

"I received a text message from Mr. Spencer this morning, around 4 am. It was…I have no idea what it was. It didn't make any sense. But it left me with an uneasy feeling. I still don't think it was meant for me, but…"

She trailed off, no one noticing that her gaze had fallen on Detective O'Hara, if only for a split second. Quickly recovering, she removed her cell from her pocket, continuing on.

"I went to the office earlier than normal. I tried to shake it off, but something stuck with me. That's when Detective Greene called to inform me that a 911 call was just placed to the Psych Agency. He knew that Mr. Spencer and Mr. Guster were consultants of mine and wanted to notify me."

Karen looked at her phone with a sigh, "Henry, Shawn's motorcycle was found abandoned at Marine Drive. The backend is crushed in and my investigators believe it to be a hit and run."

The Chief would swear on her life that she had never seen anyone's face turn so red before, and in such a short matter of time. She had expected an outburst – hell, all of them had. Gus looked to be inches from covering his ears with his hands. So what came was a surprise.

Henry didn't yell or shout. His words came in a low hiss, "I knew it." He shook his head, his lips pursed together in anger. "I knew it. I KNEW that damn bike would be involved. Goddamn it!"

Carlton's curiosity had gotten the best of him, and easily ignoring the man, he turned his attention to the Chief. "Can I see the message?" Patiently he had asked.

Karen shrugged, "Yeah, if you can decipher it."

She handed over her phone, and Carlton looked so intently at the message that he never realized Juliet was practically hovering over his shoulder, not until she spoke.

"Huh?" Was all she had said, confusion evident in her voice.

"What…" he trailed off, "What the hell does this mean?"

Carlton was angry, no, _pissed_ when the phone was literally _yanked _out of his hands by an angry Henry. "Last time you tried to decrypt one of my son's messages, he ended up in the car of a runaway criminal. Let me see it."

A beat.

And then "Is this even English!" Henry had exclaimed.

"Of course it's English," came from a distressed Gus, "The only other language Shawn knows is German. That and a poor excuse for Spanish." His voice came low and monotone, however he finally looked up from the ground underneath him.

"Waitwaitwait," Juliet didn't dare grab the phone from Henry, but found herself drawing closer to the man as she looked at the phone. "This here," She pointed to the screen, "It looks scrambled. Bsm? Picture that on a keyboard…Bsm…bsm…"

"Van."

Three heads turned to Gus, now fully upright in the chair.

"Van. V next to B. A next to S. N next to M. His motorcycle was in an accident. You guys think it's a hit and run. Van…he was telling us something."

Carlton would admit it – he was impressed, though Guster always was the other half of Psych that proved to be reliable. "Can you decipher the rest?" He asked. A shrug the only reply he received.

"Van? What would he be-?"

"Family of Shawn Spencer?"

Juliet never finished her sentence. The four turned to the sound faster than a tiger to its prey, every heart skipping a beat at the voice.

Henry was the first to step forward, his reactions much quicker than the others. "Yes! How is he?"

The doctor, obvious from the blue scrubs and white coat, looked at Henry questionably. "Your relation to the patient?"

"He's my _son._" Henry snapped, "And I've been here for six damn hours. Can you please tell me if he's okay?"

"Please sir," The doctor said, "I need you to follow me."

Juliet would never forget how Henry turned around, his gaze falling on each one of them in the room, landing on Gus with a look she would never be able to figure out. It was as if he was asking the man a question, one only meant for the two of them.

And Gus obviously knew this, speaking up with a, "Go."

It was all he needed. Henry dropped the cell phone in the hands of Gus, silently trusting the man to figure out the message his son was trying to say. After that, both him and the doctor were down the hospital halls and out of the sight before it registered in their minds.

Gus didn't hesitate to distract himself with the phone.

"Gikkeimg nr. Gikkeimg nr…"

* * *

><p>Henry had only felt true and utter panic maybe four times in his life. Being a police officer and detective had taught him how to easily control his emotions of all kind, though he would still be known for his quick temper. The man had faced down the barrel of many guns before and barely even blinked.<p>

Two out of those four times were family related. He remembered the raw panic he had experienced when Madeline confessed that she was filing for a divorce. It was one of the worst times of his life. Despite their fighting and despite their issues, he still cared so deeply for the woman that he refused to let their son hate her the way that he wanted to hate her. So he lied, and made it seem like he walked away from them.

The other time, he had received a phone call from a hospital employee saying that Shawn was in a motorcycle accident, after only having the bike for five months. He was so relieved when he found out the kid only had a broken leg and concussion that he couldn't even find it in him to scream at the moron who left his high beams on and caused the crash. The doctor had said that Shawn was extremely lucky.

Walking into this doctor's office, Henry had a sickening feeling that Shawn wasn't as lucky this time. It would be the fifth time he had felt true, raw panic.

"Mr. Spencer, please, take a seat." The doctor had said, Anderson by his previous introduction walking down the hospital halls.

Henry wasn't buying what he was selling. "Maybe after you tell me how my son is."

Dr. Anderson didn't seem intimidated. He stared at the retired cop before saying once again, "Mr. Spencer. Please sit."

It wasn't the impatience that had him take a seat, but rather the knowing of the tone that the doctor had used. Henry had used that tone before – it was the same tone that said 'Listen, you don't sit, you're going to pass out when I tell you this and I don't want to pick up your sorry butt from the floor.'

So he took a seat.

Dr. Anderson rested his hands on the top of his desk. "I understand that you want to know how Shawn is. But I also need you to understand the grave nature of his situation. We're unsure of what caused his injuries-"

"We're looking into a hit and run."

Henry's interruption didn't seem to bother Dr. Anderson; rather instead it piqued a bit of curiosity in his expression. He nodded his head with acknowledgement.

"Okay, assuming that's the case Mr. Spencer, I need you to understand the gravity of his condition. Your son arrived to my care in extreme shock and looked to be experiencing signs of hypovolemia for quite some time. His blood pressure, pulse and oxygen levels were at dangerously low levels. Symptoms were pointing to internal bleeding, but we couldn't be 100% positive. Because we were quickly losing him, we had to rush him into emergency surgery."

Something inside of Henry had shattered at those words. _'Emergency surgery.' _And suddenly, his mantra from before started up again.

_'It's bad. It's bad…' _

The man had pulled him away from the others, and he suddenly understood why. It was bad. After six hours in the waiting room, the crack in his chest had finally been shattered opened, and years of resentment and anger washed away with two simple words.

Dr. Anderson broke through his thoughts. "It was a good and bad thing. The good was that we almost immediately discovered his spleen had been ruptured, and we while we were able to salvage some; we had to do a partial splenectomy. I know it doesn't seem like much, but if we had waited any longer we would've had to remove the whole thing, and I just don't believe your son wouldn't be able to survive that in his condition."

Henry was confused, "What condition, Dr. Anderson?"

The doctor sighed. "Mr. Spencer, what blunt force or impact your son came across did serve damage to his abdominal area. He was experiencing _massive_ internal bleeding in several areas of hisgastrointestinal tract. If he had found treatment sooner, I believe he would've had a better chance, but-"

"Is my son still alive, doctor?" Henry honestly hadn't realized he that he had practically shouted, but the sudden shock of his heart sinking was too much to bear.

He didn't rush to answer his question. "Yes, Shawn is still alive, but…"

Henry knew that 'but'. He didn't like that 'but', not at all. The doctor was hesitant to continue, knowing where his words were going. "Shawn is currently, and has been, in unstable condition. He lost an estimated 38% of blood, a class four hemorrhage. We haven't been able to get his blood pressure above 26. His heart rate is perilously low and steadily declining. We have him on substantial transfusions – blood, plasma, sugar, saline – we're doing the very best we can, Mr. Spencer."

His mind imagining the worst, Henry didn't ask - he simply said it. "But."

"But, between the trauma of emergency surgery to his stomach, the blood loss from internal bleeding and the bleeding from the surgery…the splenectomy and cracked pelvis, and the shock that went untreated…" The doctor sighed again, "We're doing the best we can, Mr. Spencer. I'm not giving up hope, not until we lose him. I believe if we can raise his BP, even the slightest bit in the next two hours, something can be done for him."

Once again, Henry saw through the words being spoon-fed into his mouth. "But!" He firmly said, his patience long have since growing thin.

"If we can't raise his BP, his heart rate will decline until he goes into cardiac arrest. We lost him twice on the table. He won't make it again. If we can't turn things around…Mr. Spencer, your son won't make it to the night."

Devastation. Henry didn't know how else to put it. At that point, it was all he could think about. Brutal devastation sank into his veins like a poisonous drug. He could just picture Shawn standing at his doorstep for the first time in nearly 10 years…was that only 4 years ago now? They had yet to make up 10 years of pain and anger, and yet here he was being told that his son was going to be taken away from him.

He looked up and directly asked, "Can I see him?"

"No, I'm sorry." Dr. Anderson said, "He's in recovery right now. Once we stabilize him, we're going to move him to a room in the ICU. We'll see how things go from there."

"Okay," Henry said, getting up from the chair. "Thank you."

Even if he hadn't realized it at the time, Henry had wanted to leave the room as soon as possible. In his mind, he knew the doctor had said what was needed to be said, and there was a waiting room of people who needed to go about their day once he passed on the news. There was no point in him sitting around anymore.

Dr. Anderson's voice stopped him from going further than a few feet though. "Mr. Spencer," he had said, rising from his own chair.

Henry turned around to face him, "Yes, doctor?"

"It would be best if…" the grim words echoed the room. "You might want to call any family members or friends."

His mind went blank; whatever thoughts he had been thinking before escaped through the office door that the doctor had suddenly opened for him. The father never realized that his movements had suddenly slowed, and that Dr. Anderson had reached the furthest end of the room before him. Rhe commotion from the busy hospital suddenly flooded their ears. He had barely acknowledged the man saying that he would return to the waiting room when Shawn was ready to be seen. And he had mumbled a thank you, but never really heard it escape his lips.

He figured he'd have to call Maddie. He wanted to do it before returning to the others, though he knew they were waiting for an update. Henry had found his phone in his hands before he registered the act, unaware of why he wanted to get it over with. He just wanted to call and be done with it; it was what the doctor had told him to do anyways. He would probably jump off a cliff right now if you told him to, but he wouldn't know it. Henry didn't realize he was in shock, because he had learned how to keep his hands from shaking and his heart from pounding long ago, just one of the many things being a cop did to you.

His phone opened with the notification of a new voicemail.

_'If we can't turn things around…'_

Henry was curious. In the back of his mind, he knew what the message was. But he was curious; a trait his son had unfortunately inherited and used to his worst ability.

The phone to his ear, the voicemail message played through the speaker. It took him a few seconds to realize the first minute, at the very least, was nothing but the sound of pattering rain. He nearly jumped in his skin when a voice broke through the crackling.

_"Hey Dad…it's me. Again. Listen, I-..I know you…you aren't going to answer…my calls. You-you're pro-probably asleep…b-by now. A-and the-there's really…no point…in l-le-leaving this message. I just…GOD I'm wet. Ahhugh, I just ne-need a ride. If you-yo-you get this…I just…ah forget it."_

There was more rain, sometimes a slosh of water from what seemed to be a splashed puddle.

_"J-Just s-so yo-you know…the b-b-b-b-uses stop…running a-at 11."_

Henry gulped through the ever growing lump in his throat, suddenly finding it hard to breathe. The voice had long since stopped, but the background of rain continued. He could hear the sound of shoes stepping in wetness, and if he wasn't listening so intently, he would have never heard the ever faint sound mixed with the wind.

_"I-I don-don't…hat-hate you, dad. J-Just so…you k-kn-know-_

_Message over. If you would like to save this message, press-"_

That was it.

Henry flipped the phone shut, almost immediately reopening it to call Maddie. The sooner, the better, seeing as she was probably on the other side of the country. And she would appreciate him telling her as quickly as possible, right?

He never got past his contact menu.

His hands began to shake, and slowly, ever so slowly he slid down the wall behind him. His phone had slipped out of his hands, but honest to God he never realized it. He never heard the cell nor his body hit the floor with a thud.

'_Mr. Spencer, your son won't make it to the night.' _

The words echoed through his ears with a pounding force that left Henry breathless.

_"You didn't tell me you moved back."_

_"You didn't tell me you moved away."_


	6. Wadb'y Axxovrbt

**Chapter Six:**

**wadb'y axxovrbt**

Two hours later and far deep in the intensive care unit, Henry stood motionless outside the enclosed hospital room that contained his son. That day he had discovered just how long two hours could be.

It may have only been a couple hours, but ever since the doctor told him the news his heart hadn't stopped racing and pounding like the beat to a drum. It had felt like mere seconds ago. His hands were tucked tightly underneath his armpits; he refused to acknowledge the shaking of his arms. It was out of sight, out of mind.

Unfortunately, the same didn't go for Shawn. Not allowed to enter the room, Henry simply stood there and stared through the glass window as if it were the same as being inside with him.

It wasn't.

But considering the circumstances, and the fact that the doctors didn't know if the kid was going to be alive at this very moment, he wasn't complaining. He didn't have the energy or strength to complain. So he did what he knew he could. He stood and observed.

When he had returned to the waiting room, he was grateful to see that Dr. Anderson had passed on the information to the others, obviously aware of what he wasn't – that the father had taken the news in shock. Henry had sat back down and wrapped himself up in a bubble up until this point, when he was told that Shawn was just stable enough to be seen. If he could make it through the afternoon with a rise of blood pressure, only then would Henry be allowed to go inside and see his son. The kid was too damn sick to even have some by his bedside, and that was a thought he refused to let dawdle in his mind.

It was the waiting game, and it was a game Henry never agreed to play. He wanted to be angry, but he couldn't find it in him to feel that way. He wanted to be sad, but he was just too tired to work up the force. As it stood, Henry could only think and feel one thing…

This was all preventable.

He let his heavy eyelids close with a sigh. _'Internal bleeding…' _repeated over in his head. Internal bleeding…if he had just answered the call and picked up Shawn off the side of the road, he would've been in and out of the hospital before morning broke. Now he laid in the ICU, hanging on by a thread because he had been too selfish to ask what a 1am phone call was about, instead just hanging on after blowing off steam to the boy.

"_Hello?"_

"_Hey dad. It's me. Can I get a ride?"_

'_What in God's nam-Shawn! It's 1 am for crying out loud! You've got to be kidding me!"_

"_I-I know, dad. I-I know a-and I'm sorr-sorry. Could you just p-pick me up? I'm w-w-wet and h-hur-"_

"_No, Shawn. You're unbelievable. Actually, scratch that, you're _predictable. _When are you going to grow up and handle things like an adult? It's 1am and you're crawling to your father for help – as always, and-"_

"_Dad, come on! I said I'm s-s-s-sorry. I need your h-h-help. This isn-isn't my fault-"_

"_Of course it isn't, Shawn. It never is. If your bike ran out of gas, you can always take the bus. In the meantime, grow up and consider getting a car like a normal person."_

Henry felt a rush of guilt seep through his nerves. It was all damn preventable, and now they were just trying to prevent his death.

He couldn't seem to make a connection to the man inside the room. Was that really the same boy he watched hit a home run in little league? Or the same one that cheated out his co-workers in a game of poker, at the mere age of 8? It was Shawn…it was his son. And they had their basket full of problems, enough stories of hatred to fill someone's lifetime, and yet he still…

'_I don't hate you, dad. Just so you know.'_

It rang through his mind with the lingering feeling of acid burning his eardrums. He could still remember fifteen years ago, Shawn still being a teenager and yet being locked behind bars…by his father. The words he uttered echoed the cell that night with a haunting sound he'd never forget.

'_I hate you.' _For years he had repeated those words in his mind, doing everything in his power to forget about his son – forget about any need he may have for the kid. He told himself he didn't _need _the kid. They both had ran, Shawn across country and him to Florida. And yet eventually they found themselves at the same place together again…in Santa Barbara, at home.

'_I don't hate you, dad.' _He just wanted the chance to tell the kid he felt the same way. Just a _chance. _And yet he couldn't even go in the room.

Henry was so incased in his thoughts that he had never noticed the presence of a fellow detective standing by his side. And when he finally had, he barely gave a passing look. His eyes dry and his lids like bricks, strained from staring, Henry felt as if once he looked away, his sight would return to an empty bed.

Carlton didn't mind the silence. He stuffed his hands deep inside his pockets, gathering his thoughts as he looked at the 'psychic' for the first time, a privilege not even Guster had yet.

'_Jesus Christ, Spencer…' _The thought made him sick, but nonetheless it came to mind. _'You look like hell.'_

Hell wasn't the right word. There was no description for it. If it weren't for the fact that Henry stood outside the room, Carlton would've never guessed in any lifetime that the patient buried beneath a bed of wires and tubes was Shawn Spencer. Now that he looked closely, he could see the resemblance…but the lack of life held within the man sent an eerie chill through his spine.

His face obscured by a ventilator and NG tube, his body wrapped in wires and central lines, chest covered in heart monitor pads, transfusions bags of all kinds making their way around the various machines that surrounded him…Shawn was a ghost of himself. Hearing it from the doctor was one thing, but seeing it truly settled down deep in his gut. Lassiter clutched at the inside of his pant pockets…Spencer was fighting for his life. The same Spencer that glued the caps to all of his pens just the other day wasn't expected to make it to tomorrow.

It settled, but still didn't sit with him. The detective had seen Guster practically become comatose from shock – the Chief going as far to make sure a nurse checked his vitals before she had hastily left. And while O'Hara did her damdest to unscramble the gibberish of a text message left by Spencer, he did his best to overlook the tear tracks that stained her face. But even now, seeing the psychic with his own two eyes…it didn't sit with him. As if he was waiting for Shawn and Gus to pop out and admit this was all some sick twisted joke they were playing on him.

He didn't know what felt worst, the fact he couldn't handle the truth of the situation, or that he would be truly happy if those two idiotic morons admitted this was a badly played joke.

'_God that's pathetic...' _he thought. He had seen murders and crimes a hundred times worse than this, and he walked away from them without a second thought. That was life, horrible things happened to good people. And yet he couldn't handle this.

To reinforce his previous statements, he hated when it got personal.

Finally making a move, Carlton brought his hand out from his pockets, a lime green object making its way with him. "Henry…"

He wanted to say something more, but it felt unnecessary. So Carlton merely handed over the object, wishing he could separate the connection of hyper-active Shawn Spencer that he saw when he looked at the phone, and the barely alive and tragically still Spencer that associated itself to the bloody stained prints on the device he held.

Henry didn't even look over as he grabbed the phone from Lassiter's hands. He barely responded to the dried bloody prints that ruined the iPhone case – the same case that covered the phone he had gotten for the kid last year. He simply took the phone and held it in his hands, never looking at the device but obviously torn between letting it become one more of his 'out of sight, out of mind' objects.

If he was going to discard the cell or put it in his pocket, Henry never did. He just held onto it, and continued to stare inside the room. The phone was as close as he was going to get to Shawn.

The halls were quiet, aside from the constant sound of machinery around them. It wasn't the insanely busy and hectic part of the ER. Both men being cops, they knew where they were. Some officers would call this area the ward of death. They both did everything in their power to shake that thought away.

Though Lassiter had no initial plans to walk away, unknowingly hypnotized by the view from the window, the sound of the father's voice still shook him with disconcert.

"He called me, you know." Henry choked out, distress obvious in his voice. "Kid…kid said he needed a ride. I told him to catch the bus."

Carlton looked over, wondering if his exhausted eyes and ears were deceiving him. No, it wasn't the fact that Henry Spencer was opening up to him, if he could call a random statement 'opening up'. It wasn't even the fact that the man looked him straight in the eye when he said it.

He scuffed with bitter amusement, "If it's any consolation…" Carlton sighed, "I told him he could walk home."

Henry didn't seem surprised at the revelation, though it was hard to tell with how hidden his emotions currently were. He broke eye contact, his gaze falling back on Shawn prone in the hospital bed. Carlton didn't know what made him more ill, that or what the father said next.

"Guess it goes to show that he still doesn't listen to me."

The only sound that followed was the hissing of the ventilation machine in the room, and the beeping of the monitors. Nothing else needed to be said.

* * *

><p>"Chief!" Buzz watched with surprise as Vick came storming into the small closed-circuit monitoring room at traffic control. "You came just in time; we've collected all the footage from the enforcement cameras in a 15 mile radius from the scene of the accident. It's about to play back now."<p>

Karen squeezed her way into the room; pushing aside a few nobody's in the process. "Good. Good job, Officer McNab."

Buzz didn't seem too thrilled at the praise, "Chief, how…" he trailed off, not able to finish the question.

She looked up, as if reading his thoughts. With the slightest shake of her head, she answered millions of things that ran through his mind. Watching his demeanor change at that moment was like watching someone kick a puppy, or steal the soul of a child. Having been in the waiting room when the news was announced, she knew exactly how he felt.

"It's not good, Officer."

If Buzz tried to hide his reaction, he did a poor job of it. Though Vick couldn't lie and say she didn't feel the same way. The situation, now a case for them, had hit too close to home. Spencer, while a consultant, had become part of the SBPD family over the past few years. Hell, he was _always _a part of that family having practically grown up in the place. But it had been so much more when he had come onboard as their psychic consultant. He brought a presence and air to the department that so few people in this entire world had in their being. He reminded everyone that there was more to life than death and gloom…he made them smile.

And for Buzz and Karen, Shawn had done something for them they'd treasure for a lifetime. He supported them. Karen as Chief, Buzz as an officer and a friend. They could hide their emotions as long as they wanted to, but fact was the case left a bitter taste in their mouth. It was personal. And if only for today, if only just an hour…all other murders and crimes were forgotten.

A city worker monitoring the tapes had spoken up, "Okay Chief Vick, this is what the corner enforcement camera caught of Marine Drive. It's been enhanced to the best of our ability, but between the distance and time of day there's only so much we could do."

Karen turned her attention to the small computer displays, herself and the others in the room watching intently as the scene played out before them. The sounds that filled the area included tires screeching, a reverberating thud, the sound of a car speeding away, and the collective gasps that came in-between those numerous things.

"Damn. Ow."

While she knew he meant no impudence, Vick's first reaction was the desire to smack the city worker that decided to utter those words. She held back her temptation to do so, using the strength to gather her thoughts instead.

'Ow' wasn't a strong enough word for what they just saw.

"Chief…" Buzz's voice was quiet, stuck between his throat and mouth. "With all due respect…"

She looked over at him, and he at her. "This was no accident, Chief Vick. No way in hell."

Karen nodded. "Get Lassiter here. Now."

* * *

><p>Tired, frustrated, angry and sad, Juliet sat in the waiting room of the hospital, surrounded by multiple sheets of papers and a pen hanging from her mouth. Nurses and fellow occupants dared not question her behavior, rather step over the mess of work she had created on the floor if they needed to get by.<p>

If it was any other time, she would probably be a little embarrassed to be seated Indian style on the floor with pages of the alphabet and scrambled gibberish scribbled on the back of 'what smoking does to you' and 'what to expect when you're expecting' sampler sheets. However, determination and shock ran so heavily through her veins that you could dye her hair pink and she wouldn't blink an eyelash.

Juliet was doing everything possible to distract herself from thinking too hard about Shawn. She couldn't prevent the doctor's news from replaying in her mind, but if she dared to take a minute to reflect on it…well, she'd be crying a lot harder than she already was. The tears came without trying, her mascara staining her cheeks. She just didn't care though.

While she wished Gus hadn't given up on deciphering Shawn's message, she couldn't say that it wasn't a surprise. The man was told his best friend of thirty years was probably going to die… she had written down the message from the cell before returning the phone to the Chief and began her work. Juliet hadn't even noticed when Vick left. She barely even glanced up when Carlton did the same. She kept focused to keep herself from breaking down.

She was close to asking Gus to get back in the game, but after he had pulled out his cell phone to make a phone call, that quickly stopped being a possibility. Her initial thought was _'Who the hell is he calling at a time like this?' _and it was immediately followed by her heart being crushed by a fifty ton weight.

"Mom?" He had croaked, his voice dry as the Sahara desert, "I-it's Burton."

Juliet had promptly gathered her papers and led herself to the furthest corner of the room, knowing this conversation wasn't meant for her ears.

"Mom…i-it's Shawn, mom. I…I just…"

She had seen Gus cry before, what with him being a 'sympatric crier' and all. She had even seen him go through ordeals like Yang, Shawn being kidnapped, _himself _being held hostage…and yet this was the first time she saw him truly break. His entire being split at the seams. If more tears had come down her eyes with anything she might've overheard, well, that was just a coincidence.

The papers in front of her held no answers. A migraine already sinking into the depths of her skull, she began to wonder just what Shawn was trying to say. Words like 'vkimse', 'sttenpt', 'gikkpimg' and 'jwlp'…was it a hidden message? Some sort of code? A massive amount of typos? If the doctor's words weren't scampering through the back of his mind, maybe she would've been able to figure this out sooner.

'_As I told Mr. Spencer, the next few hours will decide what happens. Either he improves…or he doesn't. And if the latter occurs, he unfortunately won't be turning a corner. He won't make it to the night.'_

Juliet roughly shook her head, shaking off the dazed thoughts. _'Get yourself together, O'Hara. This is a case. Focus on the case.'_

That was almost laughable. She could beat herself up as many times as she wanted for being unprofessional, but at the end this was still Shawn. _Their _Shawn.

Her Shawn.

It made her upset that for so many years she had turned him away over the possibility of something between them being a 'mistake'. And by the time she realized the only mistake being made was pulling away, it was too late.

He never told her that he and Abigail broke up. Juliet couldn't help but wonder the reasons for that. Did he want her to know? Did he still care about her like she did to him?

Did they miss their chance?

She hated the 'what if's, she did her best not to think about them in any part of her life…but if she had just given into one of his many attempts, maybe –

Juliet paused._ 'Wait.'_

Attempts. Attempt. The pen falling from her mouth, Juliet fumbled through the sheets in front of her, most likely receiving many paper cuts in the process.

One of the words in the text message – sttenpt. She remembered what Gus had said before, moving the letters on the keyboard to match the right one until you had a word. Bsm was Van misspelt.

Sttenpt…attempt.

'_Van. Attempt. Attempt what, Shawn?'_

She looked down at the written text message again. Vkimse… vkimse…b in place of v, l in place of k, o for I, n for m, d for s…blonde?

It had clicked with her at that very moment, as if someone had turned on a light switch. Juliet could literatly _see _it in her eyes, her brain rearranging the letters on his iPhone as if she was texting the words herself.

"Shawn wasn't sending a hidden message…" Juliet murmured, "His just spelt the words wrong. He couldn't see the letters in the right spots."

Her mind reeling at a thousand miles per second, her fingers struggled to keep up with her. She quickly had the words unscrambled and the letters in their proper place, words like 'axxovrbt' becoming 'accident'. 'Gikkpimg' being 'following'. 'Pyt' to 'out, and 'jill' to 'kill.'

Kill.

Her heart skipped a beat. "Oh my god." The words a faint whisper and her breath stolen from her lung, she looked over at Gus,

"Gus…Gus!"

His red rimmed eyes shot over to hers, mouth never uttering a word but his attention devoted to whatever she needed.

"Gus…someone was out to kill Shawn. That's what he was trying to tell us."

Juliet looked down at the paper one last time, suddenly unaware of what was around her, Gus's abrupt presence included. What happened next would forever astound her, as the numerous pieces of sheets suddenly became blackened out while her attention focused solely on one piece of paper – the paper with the written text message.

Her eyes seeing clearly, Juliet rearranged the words within her mind.

"Bsm gikkpimg nr bir xpubviwmce vkimse gsir rgobk hukkubg sttenpt wadb'y axxovrbt bwws gwkp pyt ro jill jwlps."

The gibberish quickly turned into, "Van following me not coincidence blonde hair think attempt wasn't accident out to kill help."

Almost immediately, Juliet and Gus saw nothing but one word.

"Help."


	7. Lose innocence, Find hope

**Chapter Seven:  
>Lose innocence. Find hope.<strong>

There were certain things that Henry would never stop feeling frustrated over. His son was one of them.

Throwing his truck into park and yanking out the keys from the ignition, his tired eyes had caught glance of Shawn just as the kid looked up to see him. It was like finding a lost puppy in the woods; he was drenched to the core, shivering, and sat with his knees to his chest and back against a tall light post. If he had sounded bad on the phone, well, he looked a lot worst in person.

Leaving the truck, Henry pulled his jacket over his head as he jogged over. "Shawn! What in God's name did you manage to get yourself into this time!" He yelled over the pouring rain.

Shawn looked up, his glazed eyes startling him. "N-n-n-n-o-o-o-t-t-t m-m-m-m-m-m-e."

His teeth chattering like a California earth quake concerned Henry almost as much as his pale skin. It may have been raining, but the temperature was still mild and humid. This _was _Santa Barbra after all, and the city of sunshine didn't offer 'cold'.

Henry sighed, "You're damn lucky I didn't hang up on you like I should have. It's 1 in the morning and I _was _planning on fishing if this weather looked up. Where's your bike, kid?" He asked, wrapping his arm around Shawn's and pulling the dead-weighted man onto his feet.

Shawn hadn't exactly answered him, but the slight twitch of his eyesight had led him to the bush on their right, where just barely could the Norton be seen tangled in the leaves. And was that a dent he saw? No, that was _way _more than a dent.

Henry gaped, tightening his grip around Shawn when the kid had stumbled forward. "W-w-w-a-sn't a-a-cid-d-den-n-n-t, d-dad. H-have t-t-to b-b-bel-lieve m-m-me."

Guiding his son to the truck, Henry listened as Shawn, with his teeth trembling together, struggled to speak a simple sentence. The lack of focus in his eyes and the pale skin added up to one frightening thought – shock. And from the look of it, not a simple instance of shock either. He decided to listen to his instincts on this one.

"Okay kid," Henry said, pulling the seatbelt over his son and gently placing his own drenched coat over him. "It wasn't you. You can tell me everything once we get you to the ER, got it?"

Shawn barely even nodded in acknowledgment, a small groan making itself through his throat. Henry couldn't have moved faster if he tried, quickly getting into the driver's side of the car and starting up the car once more. He had blasted on the heat and sped down the highway, taking the fastest route to the nearest hospital – Cottage if his memory served right.

"_Henry_."

The name startling him, Henry looked over at Shawn, who hadn't moved an inch since he was put in the car.

"Shawn, you say something?"

No movement.

"_Henry…_"

And yet there it was again. Henry's eyes looked back and forth between the road and his son, confusion evident in his expression.

"Shawn! Is that you kid?"

_"Henry!"_

"SHA-"

* * *

><p>"Henry!"<p>

Karen's voice broke through Henry's fog, his body practically jerking out of the chair he had fallen asleep in.

"God, Henry, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you-"

"Its fine, it's fine!" Henry cut her short, his hammering heart stunned too much to deal with her apology. He bent over in the chair and rubbed his stiff and sore neck with a deep, shaking breath. He had honestly never remembered dozing off, but now that he had, he certainly didn't plan on letting himself do it again. Not if he was going to dream something even remotely resembling _that_ nightmare.

Damn it, as if he wasn't feeling guilty enough, now he had his subconscious to torment him.

"Are you alright, Henry?"

Looking up, Henry found himself face-to-face with the Chief. Her concerned eyes had begun to bore through his.

He shook his head, "No, Karen." Henry simply stated. "No, I'm not. Have your detectives discovered anymore information?"

Karen held back a scuff of laughter. Henry had always been one to quickly change the subject. It was one of the first things she had learned about him, the second being that he was as stubborn as a mule. Many years ago during their first patrol ride together, she took a glance at his wedding ring and had made the mistake about asking how his wife was doing. And she had never received the answer. It was almost relieving to know that some things never changed.

In front of them she had sat down next to the man, in one of the only two chairs located outside the hospital room. "First, tell me how Shawn is doing."

Henry gave her his 'stop bullshitting around with me' look, and she had no problem returning it with her 'you're going to answer my question before I give into yours, and that's how it is'. It went without saying that she won the battle of stares.

"Doctor's don't know what to think. His blood pressure isn't rising above 30. He's stable…but still too critical. They're worried his heart will give out at any moment."

Karen felt a pang of anxiety at the news. She wouldn't lie; she had been crossing her fingers for some good news. It had been almost ten hours since her consultant was admitted in the hospital, and over two hours since she received an update. She didn't expect a miracle, but when she arrived in the depths of the ICU to see the sight that was on display in front of them…she held onto hope, but hope was fighting to get away. It seemed like the only turns that Shawn was taking were for the worst.

She looked at Henry, the man scrubbing his face with his dry hands. His shoulders seemed to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders. According to the news that Lassiter had passed onto her, his appearance wouldn't hold too far from just that. While Karen had received a gibberish and scrambled text message, he had received an actual phone call. She couldn't imagine the guilt he was experiencing.

It pained her to know she was about to make matters worse. "Henry…" He had looked over at her, as if wondering what else she could drop on him at this point.

Karen sighed, "City control collected surveillance footage from the area Shawn was in at the time of the…when his motorcycle was hit."

She dared not utter the word 'accident'. Accident was when you fell and slipped in the shower. Her eyes saw nothing short of an attempted murder…and at this rate; she was scared to see how fast the word 'attempted' would be taken from that sentence.

Henry had seen and heard a lot in his lifetime; Karen held no doubt to that. She could see it in his eyes that he knew where she was going with this. But when Officer McNab stepped into the hallway, his head held low…the wisdom in his eyes was quickly overtaken by the panic of a lost father.

"Karen?" It was all he could say, and yet it held the power of a thousand words.

"Until we find this guy, until we know Shawn is safe…Officer McNab has been assigned watchdog duty. Detective Lassiter is at city control now reviewing the footage and-"

Henry never let her finish. He shot up, grabbed his jacket and began marching down the hospital corridors before Karen even had the time to comprehend his actions. At his pace, she had barely caught up with him.

"Henry! You know I can't let you see that footage! You're family and you can't be involved in this invest-"

"No!" He spun around, finger pointing with anger. "No! Don't you _dare _look at me and say I can't be involved. Because my kid, my _only _damn son hasn't been given the chance of seeing tomorrow. My _son…_"

Karen watched as the pointing digit began to shake, slowly at first and then with more strength. Henry brought down his arm, and inhaled a deep breath to control his infamous temper.

"Karen, my son has been attacked. Someone tried to kill Shawn. You can get your best officers on me, but there's no way in hell I'm not watching that footage."

Henry's eyes stared directly into the Chiefs, telling her everything she needed to know with the determination that he held behind the puddles of blue liquid.

The second thing Karen had learned about Henry Spencer…he was stubborn. There was no getting around it; Spencer's were just that way. And as infuriating as it was, to see Shawn participate in SBPD's cases with that same stubbornness she had been partnered with years ago…it was infuriating, but it never failed to bring reassurance and peace to her mind. She knew that he could get something done with the same trait she had seen his father use to his advantage so many times before.

Karen didn't stop Henry from leaving the hospital. No, in fact she was the one that drove him there. After all, she had learned a lot about the man. The third? Never let a Spencer drive when they're pissed off.

* * *

><p>Carlton had seen a lot of messed up stuff in his career as a detective.<p>

Standing in the small surveillance room, he knew the tapes he watched didn't even come close to what his eyes had seen in the past. And yet with each rewind he felt his stomach knot together tighter than the last. He couldn't tell you why exactly, but he had a good feeling that it was the phone call he had ended with Spencer not long after the time stamped footage would end.

_"Lassie! Figured I'd give you a nice w-w-ake up call-"_

_"What the hel-Spencer! This better be a damn joke."_

_"I-I-I wish, man. Listen, I-I know it's l-late. Or e-e-arly. Or w-w-whatever. But I need a r-ri-ride-"_

_"Spencer, it's 1 in the damn morning. I don't care if you've seen aliens land a spaceship on the Whitehouse. Suck it up and walk home if you have to – and don't call me again, at least not until the sun rises."_

Carlton truly wished the phone call would stop echoing in his ears. It would be less than 6 hours after that phone call that he found himself at the Psych office, finding clues to why Spencer had been rushed to the hospital. Now, reviewing the traffic camera tapes, he couldn't stop himself from thinking about how he would've never even had to go to Psych this morning if he had just heard Spencer out.

In his defense, the idiot _had _made a lot of random phone calls to him.

'_That doesn't justify it, Lassiter.' He thought._

His mind couldn't stop replaying the sight of O'Hara's shocked and broken face when the doctor had updated them on Spencer's condition. Critical…he wasn't even expected to make it to the night. Carlton looked down at his watch, 3o'clock. He hadn't heard anything since then, aside from O'Hara figuring out and passing on the unscrambled text message.

He knew there was a reason he liked her. And that's what made it so painful to remember how exactly she had responded to the news about Spencer.

Suddenly, the sound of a door opening and two sets of feet storming their way through had caught his attention. He turned his head around, his jaw dropping to the floor.

"What the hell! Spenc-Henry, you know you can't be here!"

Henry retorted, "Like hell I can't be here. And like hell you're going to stand in my way. If my son was attacked, there's nothing that's going to keep me from-"

"Karen!" Carlton practically shouted.

"You better just step aside, Detective. He's here…you're not going to get rid of him."

Karen watched the two stand off - it was like watching two children fight. Carlton, after much glaring, hesitantly backed down with a disgusted sigh. She could tell he wasn't completely convinced, but they both knew there was nothing that could be done once she laid down the word.

Henry was involved, and there was no getting around it.

With his arms crossed, Henry pushed Carlton aside. "Where's the footage, Lassiter?"

Carlton leaned forward and pressed the replay button on the computer. He knew he was going to regret this. There was a reason family members didn't get involved in investigations, even if they were too-soon-retired cops.

Henry's ability to stay stoic shined through as the footage played on. If he had felt anything, it was concealed better than hidden treasure. Even Carlton had winced when he watched the scene unfold.

Henry, on the other hand, did nothing but blink.

Carlton grimaced, "The camera captures the hit-and-run taking place at 1:10 am. There's no doubt its Spencer, but the other vehicle we can't tell."

The footage was dark and grainy, but enhanced just enough to see what went down. Two vehicles came speeding into view, the camera catching the back angle of both. One was a dark van; the other was a shiny Norton – Shawn.

Henry watched, taking note of the simple stuff. They were both going over 50 per hour, the roads were deserted and the unmarked van was following _way _too close to be a simple civilian. And when the van had sped up to dangerous speeds, it came in contact with the back of the Norton in a crashing manner, sending a 'thud' through the computer speakers that Henry would never forget.

Everything about the whole day began to fall into place once Henry saw Shawn's body propelled forward and smack into a nearby light post.

_"Shawn, its Newton's first law. An object in motion stays in motion."_

_"Yeah, well, what about the force?"_

_"What?"_

_"The force. What if I have awesome Jedi powers and use the force to stop the assailant's motions."_

_"Shawn…are you taking this seriously!"_

_"Very. Imagine it, dad. I'm attacked, big bad comes running at me, I use my awesome Jedi powers to stop him, I make world-wide news and you're proud of my ability to become famous overnight! Dad? Dad, where ya going? Dad! Just 'cause I'm 7 doesn't mean I can't be a Jedi!"_

Henry held back the memory in his mind, refusing to let it resurface. He refused to associate this very moment with his young and innocent Shawn, the care-free kid who broke too many bones to keep track of and yet left the hospital without a care in the world. Because this time, there was no saying if the kid would be leaving the hospital. Henry refused to connect the memory with what he saw on the tapes.

Shawn struck the pole with incredible force, practically wrapping around it as his stomach took the blunt of the impact. After that, his body spun out until he hit the ground and rolled out of view. The van had long since screeched away from the scene.

Nobody was quite sure what to expect from Henry. He crossed his arms, asking "Vehicle had no plates. APB out yet?"

Obviously, that reaction wasn't it. Even Carlton had stuttered in a daze, until finally replying.

"It was broadcasted over an hour ago. Check points are being done at city limits. Until we have any idea who this guy was though…there's not a whole lot for us to follow on. It could've been someone out to get him, or just a case of road rage."

Henry didn't appear to be listening. He watched the monitors closely, each five screens containing a different tape, looping to show a close resemblance of timestamps that followed up to the incident.

As if reading his thoughts, Karen spoke up. "What I don't understand Henry, is where Shawn was going. His apartment is on the other side of town. And the Psych agency was a good thirty minutes away in the other direction."

"He may have been trying to shake the guy," Carlton mused, "It looks like he had been following Spencer since turning off 95. Shawn was probably trying to make sure something was wrong before-"

"No," Henry interrupted, pointing at the monitors. "No, Shawn knew very well something was wrong. Look at this…every point he hit. It wasn't a coincidence."

Carlton studied the footage, eyes darting between each tape. "He purposely drove to every intersection with surveillance on it."

Henry nodded. "Shawn knew he was in danger. He was prepared for this."

* * *

><p>Gus had debated for eighteen minutes whether or not he should take up the opportunity of seeing Shawn. He knew it was eighteen minutes because he had stared at the clock the entire time, long lost in his thoughts.<p>

The doctor had re-entered the waiting room not long after Mr. Spencer bolted from the hospital doors. Gus barely even noticed that the Chief and Henry had rushed away until Juliet pointed it out. Even then, he didn't really have the motive to care about the whys and whens. He was told that Shawn could be seen for ten minutes once every half an hour, unless something was to change for the worse. Gus had figured the doctor was randomly passing on the news until he had directed him the way to the intensive care unit.

"I-I'm sorry…uh…isn't the ICU family only?" Gus sputtered, confused.

"Yes. Mr. Spencer informed me you're an adopted child?"

Gus and Juliet had turned to each other, sharing a look only the two friends could have passed on. While no smiles were shared, for once that day they had felt a little jolt of comfort. Juliet had encouraged him to go forward. He knew how badly she wanted to see him, her feet itching to run down the hospital halls and shoot anyone who got in her way. He felt like he had to do this for her.

Unfortunately, Gus didn't 'do' emergency rooms. He certainly didn't do needles, machinery or blood, all of which Shawn was currently surrounded by. Viewing the sight outside the room, he had tried to get a hold of himself before entering. It really didn't help, and entering had been just as bad as his first glimpse of Shawn through the window.

So here he sat, stiff as a board in the chair next to the hospital bed. Sterile gloves covered his hands and a paper mask over his mouth – Shawn was at too high of a risk for infection with most of his spleen having been removed. Even after scrubbing down every exposed part of his body, Gus still didn't feel safe getting close to the guy. He wouldn't be able to live with himself if a fever broke and he was at blame.

It was hard to look at him. Gus decided that the wall was a much more interesting sight, because his eyes refused to stare anywhere else, even though his peripheral vision could see everything he didn't want to. Needles were up every inch of his arm and a blood pressure cuff squeezing his bicep every once and a while to get a reading, while plasma, blood and saline ran through the central lines into his veins. The over-sized gown was hanging loosely off his shoulders to make way for the heart monitor pads, and an intubation tube was down his throat and taped to the side of his mouth. As if all that didn't give Gus the shivers, the NG tube up Shawn's nose drained any excess blood in his stomach.

Gus knew Lamaze breathing wasn't going to save him from this moment. So he stared at the wall.

_'He's too still...'_ He couldn't help but think. It was true, as cliché as it sounded. Gus remembered when Shawn had been shot, not even five months ago now. The guy had jumped onto the hood of a car and had still been bouncing on the way to the ER. And once admitted he spent his time enticing nurses to join him in random singings of Journey songs.

And then there was the time they were 11, and Shawn had gotten his tonsils out. He spent twenty minutes straight detailing his escape plan from the hospital, all down to the finest detail. Shawn's mother begged the doctors for a sedative to keep Shawn from doing further damage to his throat. According to Henry, he had still rambled on in his sleep that night.

Shawn was never still. He always had life running through his body, embracing everything that was thrown their way. And now, the only indication that he was still alive stood to be the loud beeping of the machines around him.

Chasing down criminals, being held at gun point, having his car shot at and becoming a hostage…and none of that compared to how scared Gus felt right now.

_"Baby, you listen to me. Hope never abandons you; you abandon it. Don't you give up on him, he needs you - you hear me Burton? Hope won't abandon you."_

His mother always knew what to say at the right moments. It was his favorite quote, originating from George Weinberg. The toughest of situations in life and he would pause, take a deep breath and find himself quoting those words. In fact, he had a small inspirational poster with that text in the Psych office at one point. Shawn had forced him to take it down after making one too many 'wienerberg' jokes.

Gus sulked, _'God, Shawn…' _

He looked over, his face twisting together. If the doctor's words hadn't made their impact yet, this sure did. Shawn was barely there, his heart beating solely with the support of the machines. They were losing him.

He was losing him.

Thirty years. How do you say goodbye to thirty years?

_"Dude, don't. It's not goodbye. Goodbye is for…sissy little women who get overemotional. I'm leaving Santa Barbra, but I'm not leaving you. This is…see ya around."_

_"Shawn, you're talking about going to Argentina."_

_"I'll write you a post card, buddy – good luck in college!"_

He looked at Shawn, the hissing of the ventilation machine drowning out the memory.

"Sir?"

Gus looked over, slightly startled at the presence of a young nurse standing in the door way.

She tightened the mask around her mouth, "I'm sorry sir, but do you have permission to be in here?"

Already overemotional and slightly insulted, Gus quickly repeated the words of the doctor. "I'm his brother."

She glared, studying his features.

He retorted, "Adopted."

As if she had greatly offended him – which she probably would've if, you know, it was true, the nurse quickly apologized. "Oh gosh, I'm sorry. I'm sorry sir. I didn't mean to…"

Gus didn't care. He turned his attention back to Shawn. If the nurse didn't already feel horrendous, she certainly now.

"I'm sorry sir, but…I have to ask you to leave. It's been over ten minutes. You can see him again soon."

Could he, though? What if this was the last time he got to see him? The doctor's weren't holding hope, they were giving him a few more hours if things didn't look up. Even he was finding it hard to find hope when everything seemed to be against them. How could she be kicking him out when he had just got there?

Gus found himself catching glances of the room's exit and the frightening still Shawn, torn between following the nurse's demands and tackling her to the floor while jamming the door shut. And as much as he would've truly enjoyed doing the latter, knowing Shawn would've been proud, he hesitantly got up from the chair to leave.

He wanted to do something – say something, anything. He had never seen his friend this fragile before, looking as if he would break at the slightest change of environment.

"Sir? It's time to go."

Go…goodbye.

Never goodbye, just see you later.

Gus did something next he would've never remembered actually contemplating doing. After thirty years of friendship, it came as pure second nature.

Tangled beneath the bunch of wires, Shawn's fingers were curled slightly and weakly underneath his palm, in the faintest outline of a fist. And more gentle then he would handle a new born kitten, Gus's gloved hands gave his knuckles a slight tap.

_Beep._

Both he and the nurse immediately threw their eyesight to the sound. "What happened?"

The nurse gave a delicate smile. "31. His blood pressure is rising." She softly said.

His eyes shot over to her, where she dared not say another word. They both knew full well she wasn't in the position to be offering false reassurance. But for once, Gus didn't need it.

_Hope won't abandon you…_

And Shawn wouldn't either.


	8. Time is Gone

AN:

Hm...plenty of story alerts, and yet only one or two reviews _

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Eight: <strong>  
><strong>Time is Gone<strong>

Juliet sat in the waiting room of Cottage Hospital, thoughtlessly biting at the tips of her fingernails. It was an old habit of hers she had long since broke before moving to Santa Barbra, but at this point she couldn't really find the energy in her to care. It was her only effort to keep her mind from running to places she refused to go.

Looking to her left where Gus sat nearby, she saw his shoulders heaving with the weight of a thousand troubles. He had seemed even more shaken when returning from the extremely short visit with Shawn, if that at all seemed possible. And if it weren't for the occasional sighs he let out, she would've put her money on him being comatose. He hadn't said a single word.

Her nerves were wrecked. She hated not being in control; she _needed _control. But as it stood, they had yet to hear another peep from the doctor, and Shawn was still hanging on by a thread.

'Stay and pass on updates',

Carlton had said. Juliet rolled her eyes. What updates? She had nothing, nowhere to go and nothing to do. All the time in the world to soak in her thoughts, and her thoughts were the very thing she wanted to avoid at this point.

Both Juliet and Gus were barely even present, both to the hospital and to each other, seemingly trapped within their emotions. But when the automatic doors to the opposite side of the room had opened and let familiar faces rush in, they had noticed long before the three noticed them.

Juliet bolted out of her chair, "Chief, Carlton!"

"Mr. Spencer!" Gus had shouted, following in Juliet's footsteps.

Karen, Carlton and Henry made their way towards the two. Juliet had reached them first, her eyes practically fuming with fire.

"Where have you guys been!" She hissed.

"Traffic control. We would've been here a lot sooner if _he,_" Carlton scowled, pointing in the direction of Henry, "hadn't decided to start playing cop again."

If Henry had acknowledged Carlton's words, he ignored them with ease, his attention fully the other man. "Gus – has there been any changes?"

Gus, obviously frazzled, shook his head. "No, his blood pressure has been stuck at 31 since I last saw him and-"

"You saw him?" Henry gaped.

Juliet nodded her head, speaking up when it was clear Gus had lost his voice. "The doctors are allowing an hour a half interval of ten minutes." She informed him, turning back to Carlton. "Traffic control? Why?"

Karen interrupted, "That's good, right? That they're allowing visitors?"

"I-I don't know. Dr. Anderson was telling me that if his BP doesn't increase by a tenfold, his heart's either going to give out or he'll end up in a coma."

Gus's frantic words seemed to hit hard with Henry, as the father turned away with a deep sigh. His hand ran over his face as if he could scrub away all the exhaustion and worry out of his eyes.

"Are they still looking towards the night?" Carlton had asked.

Gus nodded his head, words once more escaping him. It was one thing to see his best friend's life ticking on the clock, but to say it aloud nauseated him to a point of discomfort. Words not needed though, Henry could tell without looking at Gus that things hadn't improved, and both Karen and Carlton felt their shoulders drop with urgency towards the situation.

Carlton didn't waste time, "O'Hara, you need to come with me." He said, grabbing her arm and heading towards the ER exit.

Juliet's eyes shot open with confusion, "What's going on?"

It wasn't Carlton that answered, but rather Henry. "They have surveillance footage of Shawn's bike being hit." His words were heavy with distress, and Gus could see through him like a book.

"You saw it?" Just as Henry could read the answers off of him, Gus could do the same in terms of his own question. Words simply weren't needed when he saw the man's face grimace. He found his insides twisting a little harder at the thought of what Henry saw.

Juliet turned to him, "What happened, Mr. Spencer?"

Henry sighed, "An unmarked van struck the back of his motorcycle and sent him flying into a light post."

In that moment, both Juliet and Gus felt the pieces start to fall into place. Things were starting to make sense again. The internal bleeding and pelvis fracture were from the impact of being thrown off his bike, added to the strenuous activity of walking to the Psych agency and the time he went being untreated – it brought them to where they were now. Little details like the phone and blood found at the office no longer felt distant from the case, but rather found their way in into the puzzle.

Karen could see the wheels spinning in Gus's mind. She shook her head before he could come to any conclusions himself. "It was no accident, Mr. Guster."

Juliet looked to her partner, "Carlton?" She asked, wondering if she felt the same way.

Carlton bit his tongue, as if picking his words carefully. "It's possible that the whole thing was just road rage, but I want to play it better safe than sorry. The way that Spencer was acting indicated he knew more than the footage tells us."

Gus blinked, "Like how?"

"Mr. Spencer was circling around town; he wasn't heading towards one particular destination. And Henry managed to point out that he drove to the only eight intersections with surveillances cameras in the area." The Chief had answered.

Carlton, seemingly itching on his toes, tugged at Juliet's arm. "O'Hara, we need to get to the station and dig up the cases Spencer consulted with. If this was someone out to attack him, we need to work quickly before they hit the border."

Juliet nodded with assurance, both on their heels towards the exit doors, Karen not far behind them. They finally had something to go on, and the rush of adrenaline was a much needed break from the confusion and chaos.

Though they had walked away, the three were all in close enough ear-shot to be surprised when Henry spoke next.

"Gus, you need to go with them." He had said.

Gus sputtered with confusion, sounding eerily similar to a gasping fish. He finally exclaimed, "What!"

Surely Henry wasn't kicking him out when the doctors didn't expect Shawn to pull through the next few hours. He knew the man could have his low points, but Gus couldn't believe he was just asked to _leave. _

Henry, knowing the man as long as he knew his son, quickly sensed his thoughts. "Listen, Gus. Lassiter's right, this has to be personal. And the chances of it being an SBPD case are too damn slim; anyone Shawn put behind bars is most likely still there. This has to something that came from Psych. They're going to need you for those files."

Carlton, while surprised the man would admit such a thing, had to agree. While he may not have vocalized it, his expression had given it away when Gus had looked to him for a defense. He was right.

"But-"

Henry shook his head, "You're not doing me or Shawn any good just sitting in this waiting room, Gus. Fifty minutes wasted here for ten minutes seeing him isn't worth giving up two hours with them finding the bastard that did this."

Gus knew he was right. All four of them did. However, that didn't make accepting it any easier.

Henry's eyes stared so deeply into his that they practically penetrated the layers of his pupils. It was an unspoken conversation the two carried, the second time that day Juliet would witness a bond so unique that nothing could come close to resembling the two.

Though she knew it would take years of knowing Henry Spencer to find out, she couldn't help and wonder what it was exactly that convinced Gus to leave. Just ten minutes ago he refused to get up and use the restroom in fear of returning and being told any dreaded news. And now he had been convinced by the man to leave the building and go miles away from his friend. She wouldn't know what it was, but ultimately Gus had caved, his head nodding in the slightest sign of agreement

"I'll call you if anything changes. In the meantime…you need to go."

Gus snapped, "_Any _changes. The slightest change. Don't hold out on me."

Henry would've smiled if he thought he could. Instead, he simply spoke one word. "Go."

Once said, Carlton and Juliet had dashed out of the hospital with Gus at their side. Karen had left with one comforting squeeze of Henry's arm, and she too was gone. He watched them leave, comforted in knowing the case was in good hands, but anxious at not being able to take control or even assist in the way that the detective side of him craved to do so.

And with that, Henry sat down in the nearest chair, alone once more.

* * *

><p>Gus had felt like he had abandoned Shawn. No, it was worse than that. He felt like he abandoned Shawn clad in his boxers, on the top of Mount Everest in the middle of the world's worst blizzard, to catch a movie with some random girl.<p>

Driving away from the hospital tore him apart. He stared in the rearview mirror long after they had pulled onto the highway, miles away from the building. It just felt…_wrong. _Like eating a month old burrito that had been sitting in the sun kind of wrong. It nauseated him to the point where he was tempted to ask Juliet to pull over.

The Chief and Carlton had driven back to the station in his Crown Vic; Juliet and Gus in her green VW beetle. They knew that Gus would need to make a pit-stop at the Psych agency before they met Lassiter back at the precinct. Both still wrapping their heads around the news they had received, they were somewhat glad to have each other as company.

"Do you really think someone was out to get Shawn?"

Juliet looked over at Gus, giving a weak shrug. "I honestly don't know. The Chief seems so adamant about it. Even Carlton is considering the possibility."

Gus knew that for Carlton to start digging into possibilities, the man had a have good hunch of the outcome. He may not have said it aloud, but it was obvious to them that Lassiter agreed with the Chief.

Juliet furrowed her brow, "I just can't think of any cases he's worked on recently where the delinquent or suspected would want to hurt him. Can you?"

"No, neither with you guys or with Psych. It's just so…"

"Out of the blue." Juliet finished.

Gus nodded. "Yeah, putting it subtlety."

They pulled into the parking lot of the Psych office, the setting sun reflecting on the green letters that engraved the window. Gus muttered that he'd be back in a minute, and left Juliet in the car by herself.

Entering the office was the last thing on his to do list, and the first on his 'totally don't want to do' list. Well, it may have been second, the first was leaving the hospital. Now that he had done that, this task certainly bumped its way to the top.

The yellow police tape still covered most of the place, surrounding a corner near the kitchen and the lazy boy chair in the seating area. On every level possible did it look wrong. This was his place of work, his safe haven - his home away from home. The memories he had shared with Shawn over the past four and a half years were suddenly being tainted with images of fear, blood and panic.

Gus's game plan was to go in, grab what was needed, and make a dash for it. The building seemed to be surrounded in an atmosphere of gloom, and the longer he occupied the room, the heavier he felt that despair drag him down. With both his and Shawn's laptop under his arms, and a few folders in his hands, he was ready to head out.

He passed by the corner of the kitchen, and while he didn't look directly at it, he was glad to see that Buzz had a team clean up the mess that was left earlier that morning. He hadn't even noticed it until a paramedic had mentioned it. At that point, he had lost any control he might've had.

Passing by the Lazy Boy chair was inevitable, what with it being right there as he went to leave. As much as he would've loved to ignore it and just leave the room, it caught his attention. Maybe it was how many times he would look over at the same chair before leaving the office every day, his best friend encouraging a fist-bump on his way out. It was habit.

Mud still stained the fabric. Clumps of dirt were still there from his shoes shedding the aftermath of his journey to the building.

'He didn't make a sound…'

Gus gulped, fighting down the lump in his throat. _'Nothing. Not a sound. He seemed…'_

He shook his head, tightening the grip around the laptops and leaving the office without a second thought. He refused to let himself be submerged in what was. Shawn _was _going to make it. If he had to tell himself that all night he would. The moment he started thinking negatively was the moment everything would come crashing down.

Gus shut and locked the office door, never looking back as he returned to Juliet's car. The sun had since set down and under the building, but he wouldn't notice. He kept his head low and on the belongings in his hands.

He could only pray that they held some answers.

* * *

><p><em>Beep…<em>

_Hisssss…_

_Beep._

Henry stared.

_Beep…_

_Hisssss…_

_Beep._

Shawn had always said it was what he did best. The kid once mentioned that he could stare until his eyes turned into the Sahara Dessert.

'The eyes are windows into the soul, Shawn,' he would tell him.

From then on, when Shawn had to decipher would mood his father was in, he could see the screws turning in his head as he tried to see into those windows.

_Beep…_

_Hisssss…_

_Beep._

The sounds around him were driving him up the wall. They were loud, obnoxious, and a constant reminder that his son was alive solely on the support of the machines surrounding them.

_Beep…_

_Hisssss…_

_Beep._

"God, kid…" He sighed, his shaking head held low. "You really got yourself in a mess this time."

Henry wished Gus had prepared him for the wave of shock he felt visiting Shawn. Seeing him through the window was nothing compared to being merely inches apart. So close to the sterile needles, tubes and machines. He had barely noticed how bad he looked with the ventilation and NG tube invading his face. It almost made him laugh; he was sure Shawn would have a hissy fit with how unpolished his precious features seemed. Not to mention the hair.

Anything Shawn had gotten himself into before was a pebble contrasted to this.

Henry shook his head, anger boiling inside of him. "You're unbelievable, kid." He scuffed.

"First you not only manage to get yourself _shot, _but thrown in the trunk of a car and held hostage at a gas station. Let's not forget about jumping on the hood of a detective's car either. You couldn't even wait half a year before winding up in the hospital again."

_Beep…_

_Hisssss…_

_Beep._

The thought of hiking in the woods and chasing down his injured son still pissed him off. If Shawn hadn't been so negligent about finding clues for his case, alone at 4 am with no backup, then he wouldn't have had to waste the day saving his butt.

And this was the same thing, just like last time. His own stupid actions had caused stupid consequences.

"Do you ever plan on growing up? You can't act like a child forever. You keep winding up in these situations because you don't. think. You need to _think, _Shawn. Like a responsible adult. I'm sick of lecturing my 32 year old son about damn responsibility!"

Responsibility.

Henry's words echoed the room, spinning around like a boomerang until they came back and hit him hard in the chest. It wasn't the same thing.

In fact, it was nothing similar.

With that situation, Shawn had gone without backup and barely managed to contact someone for help before being royally screwed over. This time, whether he wanted to admit it or not, Shawn had acted responsibly. He tried to escape and find help; he left tracks and evidence, and even called not only one but two people for help after everything had gone down.

Henry groaned, rubbing his temples with frustration. That's what pissed him off most. No, it wasn't Shawn. He _wanted _to be upset with Shawn…but he couldn't.

He was only upset with himself.

"You could've just told me what happened. I would've been there, kid. It would've taken you all but twenty seconds to say 'Dad, by the way, someone crashed into my bike and sent me flying into a pole. Pick me up?' You _walked _to your office, for crying out loud. What is that, two hours for a normal, healthy person? God knows you made matters worse by doing that. That was stupid as hell, kid. I would've listened to you if you had just…"

Henry never finished, trailing off into silence.

_Beep…_

_Hisssss…_

_Beep._

Shawn had. Shawn _had_ called him; Shawn had tried to get him to listen. He wasn't stupid; he was just trying to get help. He hated knowing that if he had just gone and gave the kid a ride, he wouldn't be here at the hospital staring into the nearly lifeless body of his son.

He would do anything to trade this moment for picking Shawn up and buckling him into the seat of his truck. There wasn't one thing he could think of that he wouldn't give up in a heartbeat to go back and make a different choice. He would've gotten out of bed and drove to where Shawn was. He would've taken him to the hospital himself. He would've prevented all of this from happening.

"I would've been there, kid."

There was no reply. Not that he had been expecting one. His words were unheard from the pale and ill patient in the bed. The same grown man he had raised from birth. The one he watched take his first steps, pick out his own outfit for the first time, hit his first home run in little league, go on a date for the first time, open up his own agency for the first time…

So many firsts and here he was at the lasts. It was possibly the last time he'd see him. Possibly the last time he'd hear the kid's heartbeat.

When he had been a child, Henry made sure that Shawn knew he was there for anything that he needed, impractical and stupid desires put aside. The kid ran to him for everything, from help with a dog house, to flying a kite, to turning the engine of his truck into a Delorean. And while he hadn't helped with most of those things, Shawn knew he was there. Sadly, that was a lot more than what could be said about his mother.

He made sure Shawn knew that. That he would be there for him. Any trust mended between them had surely broken this morning when he had betrayed his own words and denied him the help that was needed.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there, Shawn."

_Beep…_

_Hisssss…_

_Beep._

Yesterday, Henry thought he had all the time in the world for the kid to be in his life. Looking back on that, he would've never realized how much of Shawn he had taken for granted.

He had just come back into his life - his world. And it was one of the worst rollercoasters he'd experience so far, yelling and sometimes screaming, anger and words that couldn't be unsaid…

But it was all progress. They surely weren't perfect, hell, saying they were 'okay' would be optimistic. They still had their moments and their fights. But they had learned how to let things blow over, and still sit down for a Thunderbirds game and enjoy dinner together. That was so much more than what they could've done years before, both refusing to speak to each other in poisonous anger.

They weren't where he'd like them to be, but they had gotten somewhere. Four years ago, he didn't even think that was possible. Four years ago, he'd spent every day trying to forget he even had a son.

Looking down at Shawn, motionless in the hospital bed, Henry felt overwhelmed with disgust. He was disgusted that he let ten years slip through his hands when he didn't even have ten minutes to spend with the kid now.

"This whole yelling thing isn't as satisfying without your smart-ass mouth to keep it going, you know."

Henry wondered how long it had been. He knew a nurse would come and shoo him away when his time was over, so he dared not to look at his watch. Rather his eyes stayed lock on Shawn, still as the day he was born.

"I…I'm sorry, kid. I can't stop thinking…about how you wouldn't be here if I had just listened to you."

_Beep…_

_Hisssss…_

_Beep._

Henry hadn't even noticed his eyes painfully watered up, not until he had blinked and sent tracks of tears down his face. He didn't bother to smear them away. His eyes stayed on Shawn.

"It's coming up on almost twelve hours, Mr. Spencer. Unfortunately his blood pressure hasn't increased in the way it needs to, despite the medications we have him on. From the looks of it, he received treatment too late. I can't tell you for sure what's going to happen, but his body can't handle such a low BP much longer."

"What are you trying to tell me, doctor?"

"You need to be prepared for the worst."

He had received the bombshell just before he had entered the hospital room, barely even remembering scrubbing clean and slapping on a pair of gloves and surgical mask, the task being a heavy blur. From the second he entered to where he was now, he couldn't take his eyes off of Shawn.

Maybe it was finally being physically in the same room with him, or maybe it was a delayed reaction. Maybe it was realizing that they were letting him spend more time in the room than what they originally wanted. Henry wasn't stupid, and he surely hadn't lost his detective skills just from being retired. They wanted him to say his goodbyes.

Whatever it was, he didn't know nor did he care. Because when the gravity of the situation had finally, truly and fully hit him…it was all he could do not to scream. Though he was sure if he had tried, no sound would've come from his throat. He wanted to scream, yell, shout, hit, punch…

He wanted the kid to be okay.

It wasn't until Henry realized that his face had become damp that the burning in his eyes wasn't from a lack of blinking. He suddenly found himself sniffing back the tears. He didn't care that he was crying, he didn't care about anything else in the world at this moment but his son.

"I can't lose you, Shawn."

_Beep…_

_Hisssss…_

_Beep._

* * *

><p>The station was eerily quiet.<p>

While things in the precinct normally calm down in the evening, there was still always a constant buzz of activity that floated around no matter what time of day it was. As it stood now, no one dared to utter a word tonight. The silence that Lassiter had normally longed for left him with a flood of tension that he couldn't shake off.

They had discovered just how important Shawn was to the station when returning from the hospital. With the Chief being absent most of the day, word got around until practically every cop and detective in the SBPD heard word that the case was an attempted homicide. Carlton couldn't even tell you the names of some of the officers he saw emotionally hit by the news, and yet Spencer had found his way into their life regardless.

As the three gathered around his desk preparing for the task ahead, he had begun to see what exactly it was that caused the Chief to call in the case. Up until that moment, he didn't understand why Karen was so persistent on her hunches. In hindsight, he wished that he had been the same way. It hadn't even been twenty-four hours since Shawn was hospitalized, and yet the light and sunshine in the station that Carlton had never even noticed existed had since disappeared. Just walking in to the building had given O'Hara the shivers.

He had always assumed the place was full of despair and misery – it had been that way since he first arrived and he never expected it to change. But it had. He came to the realization that slowly but surely, Spencer had returned life to a place that so desperately needed it, lighting up the darkness in every corner that could be found.

It could be seen in Buzz, a new officer that unquestionably would've never continued forward with the SBPD, if not for the hope that Shawn had instilled in him. It was seen in O'Hara, a transfer from Miami that tried to bring the sunshine with her, but would've been quickly dimmed into darkness if not for the constant smiles and inspiration he brought with his presence. Someone as high and mighty as the Chief had even been affected, someone who wouldn't even be here today to push forward the attempted homicide if Spencer hadn't pushed forward to keep her as part of the SBPD family.

Hell, Carlton would go as far as to say Spencer did something to him, in a slightly - very slightly, as slight as the changes between white and off-white, sort of way.

The clock ticked away without their approval, and two hours had suddenly flown over their head with no results.

He let out a sigh and ran hands down his tired face. "As far as the records show, every case Spencer has consulted with still has the accused behind bars. What do you have, O'Hara?"

Juliet shook her head, "Nothing. Any partners, family members or even friends that were questioned in the cases don't have anything suspicious on them to be considered as a suspect. Gus?"

"I don't know."

Lassiter found himself angry. "What do you mean you don't know! You have to have something, Guster!"

"Carlton!" Juliet hissed.

He mouthed her way, 'What!' with complete confusion, oblivious to the empathy she felt towards the salesman. Luckily, Gus seemed to understand that his need for results replaced his ability to feel compassion at the moment.

"It's just…there's a lot here. I've got it narrowed done to who definitely wouldn't have done it, those with blonde hair who definitely wouldn't have done it…but that still leaves a lot of others." Gus motioned towards his laptop, "We handle a lot of cases. It could be anyone from one of these suspected affairs to mothers wanting to know if the babysitter was stealing. I just…don't know."

"What about this?" Juliet spun the laptop around so it was facing both men, "Shawn's record shows you guys took an invasion of privacy case earlier this year. He wrote that the man was unstable?"

Gus nodded, "Yeah. That's Kevin McLean, right?"

"Who's Kevin McLean?" Lassiter asked.

"According to Shawn's report, his wife Janet came to Psych for help in finding proof that her ex-husband – Kevin, both destroyed her car and…oh my gosh. Killed her cat?" Juliet's mouth gaped open, turning to Gus for validation.

Lassiter cringed, "That's messed up."

"I hear that. _He _was messed up."

"Well…did he do it?"

Gus nodded, "Oh yeah. Shawn managed to dig up enough evidence that the judge had no other choice but to find Kevin guilty."

Juliet's eyes skimmed through the report for more answers, "What happened after that, Gus?"

He shrugged, "Not much. He got away with paying a fine and that's the last we heard of them both."

Lassiter tapped his pen on the desk, "What about before that? Shawn wrote he was unstable, was there any indication that Kevin would want retaliation?"

"I don't…I mean-"

"_Think, _Guster."

Gus rubbed at his temples, fighting off the oncoming headache. "Yeah, I guess. I mean, like Shawn wrote, the man was unstable. He had the worst temper I've ever seen. He was _really _close to attacking Shawn when we had confronted him about what he'd done. If Janet wasn't there to stop him, I have no doubt he would've."

Carlton looked towards Juliet, "Where is he now, O'Hara?"

"Already on it. He's living in a small apartment near Oak Avenue."

Carlton pushed the files away and immediately threw on his coat. "It may not be much, but it's the only lead we have so far. Let's go."

Juliet was quick to copy in his movements, making sure to shut off Shawn's laptop before she followed suite.

Neither of the two had noticed that Gus failed to follow their path, not until Juliet had turned around to see if he was nearby. Both she and Carlton discovered him still at the desk, his jacket half-way on and his cell phone in hand.

Carlton wasted no time. "Guster, let's move."

Though he spoke not as harsh as he had earlier, his foot still tapped the ground with impatience. It didn't a nudge from O'Hara to understand that something was wrong though. They both recognized the glassy eyes and clammy skin he suddenly developed. The same look they saw when the doctor told them of Shawn's condition earlier this afternoon.

Worry struck her hard as Juliet asked, "Gus?"

His throat in spasms as he struggled to speak, Gus held his head low. "Mr…I…Sh…"

When Gus had finally looked up at them both, it was impossible not to notice the brimming tears, "Mr. Spencer just texted me. Shawn went into tachycardic arrest. He…the doctors are advising family members be there."

A beat.

"_Jesus..._" Carlton muttered. "Holland!" His yell brought the attention to many officers, most importantly the one they needed. A black-haired man came jogging towards them, just as O'Hara seemed to gather her thoughts and get back in the game.

"Gus, go." Her firm voice demanded, finally having removed the hand from her mouth, though the shock still set heavily in her veins. "Officer Holland will take you to the hospital. We'll question McLean and be there as soon as we can."

She stepped forward, setting a gentle hand on his shoulder. "_Please _text or call me if anything happens."

Gus shakily nodded his head, "Yeah…you do the same." His voice was absent of any emotion, and it obvious to those around that he was lost in devastation.

Nonetheless, Juliet trusted that he would hold true to his words.

Carlton grabbed his keys and made a beeline for the exit. "Come on, O'Hara!"

With that, they had went their separate ways; Gus back to the hospital and the two partners to interrogate their suspect. Sadly, the tension they had brought to the station only followed them out, seemingly growing stronger by the second.

* * *

><p><strong> AN:<strong>

To prevent any further confusion regarding the medical terminology used in this fic, the blood pressure numbers that the characters are referring to are the diastolic number taken from a BP rating. The diastolic number, also known as the bottom number (ie: 100/60) measures the pressure in your blood vessels between heartbeats, when your heart is resting. While the top number (systolic) is very important when a patient is suffering from hypovolemia, the bottom number determines how critical the patient's heart rate is/will become. Shawn is currently teetering at 30. His full blood pressure would probably be something like 50/30, after medical treatment and many transfusions. In stage 4 hypovolemia, patients have been known to have BPs of 40/19. Such a low blood pressure is a bad thing because it deprives all of the organs from oxygen and can lead to shock, which can kill.

If you have any further questions regarding this or any other medical terminolgy used, hit me up. I'm no doctor, just a phlebotomist student :)


	9. Long Night Ahead

**Chapter Nine:**  
><strong>Long Night Ahead<strong>

After a long – and by long he meant _long - _day of dealing with a variety of emotions, Lassiter had ultimately decided that he was outraged. It had taken him nearly twelve hours to figure it out, but it had been his final conclusion. He was pissed; there was no other way to put it.

Never, not in a million years would he say that the anchor on his chest, the one that caused him to break numerous speeding laws on their way to Oak Avenue, was because Spencer had the slightest bit of attachment to him. Rather, it was the haunting look in Henry's eyes as they both had observed the 'psychic' behind a glass wall in the ER. It was Guster's shakings hands that, once had found themselves steady, would only start trembling again. It was the silent breakdown of his partner as they sped on the highway to find a suspected criminal.

All those things combined and he suddenly found himself fueled with a seething fire. He wanted answers. No, he wanted _justice. _

O'Hara had been quiet ever since leaving the station, still as could be in the passenger's seat of his Crown Vic. And while she had yet to speak, his occasional glances would tell him more than words ever could. Carlton had never seen her so distressed before, not even when she had slapped a pair of cuffs on her own brother. Back then, he thought that was as bad as it could get for the woman. Clearly he was wrong. She was haunted then, but not nearly in the way she was now.

It made him uncomfortable, so he dared not speak in fear of making things worst. They both ignored her tear tracks and smeared eyeliner, though it was obvious that those little things had been acknowledged. And he didn't second guess her actions when she made him wait five minutes before they left to track down McLean. Once outside the police station, he had let her find the nearest corner to be alone and didn't look back.

While knowing he'd never actually ask, Lassiter had to wonder what it was about Shawn that caused her to become so broken up about the whole thing. More than once did he ponder the thought of something going on between the two that he wasn't aware of. It wasn't a possibility he'd ignore, because he hadn't exactly been on the lookout for something to happen. He and O'Hara didn't dig into each other's personal lives. The last he'd heard, she had a long-lost boyfriend who she never truly got over. He didn't see how Spencer fit into that picture.

Carlton hated it, though – seeing her the way that she was. He hated everything about the situation. And while, once again he'd never say it was whatever attachment Spencer _might_ have on him - it was still personal. Someone attacked a member of the SBPD. There was no way in hell he was going to let them get away with that. You'd have to take him down screaming and kicking before he let the bastard get away with that enjoyment.

Once their destination had been reached, the two detectives found themselves occupying the space of a dirty and dark hallway, pounding on a door that hung the letters 'B.201' - also known as Kevin McLean's apartment.

A splinted and faded wooden door had opened, the face immediately blocked off by two badges held high in the air.

The man was taken aback. "Can I help you?" He asked.

"Detective Lassiter, SBPD. This is my partner, Detective O'Hara. We need to ask you a few questions, McLean."

The first thing that both Carlton and Juliet noticed about Kevin was the obvious – he wasn't blonde. In fact, his hair was a soft brunet mixed with a dark burgundy.

Diminishing hope had flooded through them before the man had spoken another word. After all, Shawn's text boiled down to every detail, including the random physical detail of his possible assailant.

Juliet wasn't going to give up though, and she refused to let Carlton leave before the interrogation had even begun. Out of the suspect's sight, she had nudged her partner into the apartment, knowing it was the only way he'd continue forward.

"Uhm, yeah, sure. I guess. Is there a problem, detectives?" Kevin had asked, leading the way inside.

Carlton's first thought was, _'Twenty bucks that I come across a cockroach in here.' _His second was that he could feel the anger radiating off of O'Hara like a hot summer's day. Brunet hair aside, she was seeing the guy guilty until proven innocent. Maybe it was something he needed to do as well.

They were led into the living room/kitchen/dining room/…bedroom. The word 'small' had become an understatement when describing his place. Juliet decided to stand behind her partner, arms defensively crossed over her chest as he steered the questions.

"There might be. We're working on an attempted homicide case with the SBPD, and we need to know where and what you were doing last night at the time of 1 am."

Kevin sputtered, his eyes gleaming with shock at Lassiter's demands. "Wh-I-hu-what…I…I didn't kill anyone!"

Juliet scuffed, "Not that great of a defense, McLean. Criminals say that all the time." Her voice was drenched in cruelty, a side of her that Carlton rarely saw in the junior detective.

"I-it's just-I was here. I swear. You can even ask my roommate, he'll be back from work any second now. We were playing his X-box until three or something. I swear, detectives."

There was a moment of silence as Lassiter examined McLean, studying his every feature all the way down to his five o'clock shadow and blood shot eyes. Behind him, he was sure O'Hara was doing the same thing. They had both come to their conclusions at the same time, because as his shoulders heaved with unsettling disappointment, her fiery anger had vanished.

'_Damn it,' _Carlton thought. _'He's not lying.'_

Though they weren't expecting this to be the conclusion to their case - they had been picking for a needle in haystack, after all – the latest update on Spencer's condition had shot the urgency scale of the case to 100%. This put them back to square one, and Juliet didn't hide her frustration over that fact.

"Why do you think I was involved?" Kevin choked out, his eyes darting between the two anxious detectives.

Carlton looked behind him towards his partner, and her crossed arms having slowly fallen from her chest.

She stepped forward. "Kevin, one of our consultants was attacked last night while driving home. You remember Shawn Spencer?"

His face dropped. "Oh god. Of course. Oh god…I get it…jeeze. Damn. I'm…goddamn it."

Lassiter's eyebrows shot up, "McLean?"

Kevin had collapsed into the nearest chair. "Of course you guys would suspect me. Listen," He took a deep breath, "I know this looks bad. When my ex-wife when to Psych, I was in a bad place. I had…I had a lot of anger issues. _Major_ anger issues. I probably would've beaten that psychic to a bloody plop if Janet hadn't stopped me."

Carlton held back a grimace at the man's choice of words as Juliet's searing anger had returned with a vengeance. While the guy didn't know what was going on, it probably wasn't the smartest thing to say in her presence. Her defense shields rose once again.

Nonetheless, he continued. "But…the whole thing was a wake-up call. Being confronted by those two, Shawn and his partner, uh, what was it…his partner, Lodge Blackman,"

Carlton instinctively rolled his eyes, _'Guster.'_, his thoughts concluded.

"It made me realize how messed up I was. I've taken therapy and anger management. If you need validation I'll give you numbers and papers. But I swear I'm telling the truth, detectives. I've been getting help."

Kevin looked at Juliet, his eyes locking straight into hers. "I didn't attack Shawn. And I certainly wouldn't try and kill him."

It was obvious that Juliet didn't want to give Kevin more than a second glance. With her body tense as a brick, Carlton could tell you that from miles away. But when the man had fixed his eyes into hers, she found herself compelled to look.

In return, she stared face-to-face with the very thing she hadn't prepared herself for on the drive over.

She saw innocence.

"Thank you for your time, Kevin. We apologize for any inconvenience this might have caused you." Juliet said, quickly finishing her words and dashing out of the building before Lassiter even had the time to comprehend her actions.

After a few double takes of confusion and his own final statements said, Carlton had also left the poor excuse for an apartment. He expected to discover that O'Hara wasn't waiting by his car, and seeing as they weren't in a rush with nowhere to go, he had no reason to find her.

Back to square one. They had nothing.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Carlton took in a deep breath of the chilly night's air.

'_What now?' _He thought.

* * *

><p>"Sir, hey, SIR! Stop running! SIR!"<p>

Gus ignored the shouting of random nurse number 5, skidding across the hospital floors when he took a sharp corner that entered the ICU. He figured, considering how polite and nice he was for all of his life, ignoring the demands of some staff members and knocking over a few in the process would even out in the end.

And if it didn't, well he just didn't care.

Driving back to the hospital took nearly forty-five minutes, thanks to traffic that even Holland couldn't get them out of. The entire drive, Gus had held his cell phone and re-read Henry's text message as if the letters would change at any moment.

'_Gus. shawns bp dropped. went into tartaric arrest. okay now. dr. anderson advised family members be here though'_

When Gus had first received the message, he thought that in no possible way could he imagine what Henry had gone through when Shawn had coded. However, forty-five minutes in a squad car gave him _way _too much time to think. Everything he could imagine had played out in his mind. And now, finally in the hospital again, he wasn't wasting a damn second when Shawn could easily be…

His thoughts were interrupted when his body came colliding into something lean and tall.

"Whoa whoa, whoa!"

Strong arms grabbed his shoulders, steadying him on the floor and keeping him upright. Gus was just about to fight the figure amd keep his pace when he had looked up to see the familiar face of –

"Buzz?"

"Calm down, Gus!" Buzz gave a small smile. Smile? That didn't seem right. "It's alright." His words held assurance that only stirred confusion for Gus.

"But Sha-"

Buzz nodding, understanding his train of thought. "It was bad. The doctors were really scared for a moment. Mr. Spencer…" He let out something caught between a laugh and a sigh, his eyesight trailing off to a figure standing by the nurses' station.

Gus hadn't even noticed Henry until that point. The father was busy talking on his cell phone, a pink-scrubbed nurse at his side who was demanding that he hang up now or he'd be escorted out. It was no surprise that Mr. Spencer only seemed irate that she was bothering him, making constant motions for her to go away.

"Man, Mr. Spencer was a sight. I won't ever see anything like the show he put on when Shawn's alarms went off."

He let go of Gus's shoulders, trusting the man to stand on his own now. "But they say it's looking better now. Something about medications kicking in and a rise of blood pressure. They think he's going to make it through the night."

"Mr. Spencer?"

Gus turned his attention back to Buzz, "Through the night? But…what about being too critical? I-I don't understand, they were expecting…."

"Mr. Spencer?

"When did this…I mean, he's okay? What about-"

"Mr. Spencer!"

Just when Gus was going to yell at Henry for not answering the man's name being called, a finger had tapped him on the shoulder to gain his attention. He turned around to be face-to-face with Dr. Anderson.

"Mr. Spencer?"

Gus finally realized that the voice was directed at _him. _"Oh, right, uh…yeah?"

Dr. Anderson gave a small smile, the corner of his lips indicating that he dare not question a matter of which he had already figured out.

"As I was telling your father, the _other _Mr. Spencer…" A small wink from the man had left Buzz with a noticeable grin, the officer deciding to step away from the two men at those words and greet Holland.

"The tartaric arrest was a scare, one that I hope we don't have to go through again. His BP had a sudden drop and I suspect his body was about to go into shock once more. We managed to stabilize him, though he is still standing to be critical."

Gus found his eyes darting between the doctor and the hospital room a few feet down, fear swelling within his skin. "Will he be okay?" It was a stupid question, but it was the only thing he could think of.

"I won't say for sure. I _can_ tell you what I think though." Dr. Anderson paused, giving the man a chance to back out. However, Gus had furiously nodded for him to continue.

He cleared his throat, "The medications seem to be working now that his blood count isn't at such a fatal level. The dopamine and norepinephrine couldn't properly raise his BP when there wasn't enough blood pumping through his veins to do anything else but keep his heart beating. Now that his body is taking the transfusions, we're seeing a steady climb in pressure."

"What about the arrest? Aren't the catecholamines going to send his heart into another tartaric episode?" Gus had immediately asked, his pharmaceutical knowledge peeking through. Dr. Anderson seemed impressed, but shook his head at the question.

"As long as we properly monitor his dosages, there should be no reason for another arrest. Our biggest concerns, outside of getting his BP up to at least 70/60, are his breathing, and keeping him from gaining an infection. We're running a course of antibiotics though his system just as a precaution. Between the emergency surgery and splenectomy, infection is a high risk at the moment."

"What's his blood pressure right now?"

Dr. Anderson gave a faint smile, and Gus could tell this wasn't the first time he was answering these questions.

"It's around 50/40. Until we reach 70/60, he'll be critical. Once again, I can't say for sure – so _don't _quote me on this." He hesitated, his eyes drifting to Henry on the other side of the room, before once more landing on the man in front of him. "But I think we can get him stabilized by morning."

Gus could feel his heart skipping a handful of beats at Dr. Anderson's words. He honestly felt like his world had just been turned upside down, and in all honesty the shockwave was making him dizzy. Forty-five minutes ago he was prepared to say goodbye to his best friend.

That wasn't an easy thing to come back from.

"What if you can't? Stabilize him, I mean." His voice trembled with fear, clinging to a thin strand of hope that he knew could be yanked away from him at any second.

Dr. Anderson sighed, "There is no can't. The night will tell what happens."

Gus didn't need to be a genius to understand what that meant. Shawn either made it through, or he didn't. The time of in-between was no more, and that thought shook him to the core. There was no maybe, no 'give it time' and certainly no 'we'll see how it goes' Tonight would be the final outcome.

But if they were optimistic, he should be too, right?

Gus grabbed the doctor's attention as he walked away. "T-thank you, Dr. Anderson. Truly."

Dr. Anderson turned around, "Of course. Permitting he stays on the right track, a nurse will let you guys see Shawn in about an hour or two." He said, ready to head down the hallway before turning around one last time.

"And Gus?"

Having lost himself in his thoughts, Gus's head snapped towards the voice. "Hm?" He asked.

"Tell Mr. Spencer that, family of cops or not, if he doesn't get off that cell phone - I'll personally escort him out of my ICU."

With those words, Dr. Anderson had disappeared down the ICU. It left Gus surrounded with two officers, a pissed off father and frustrated nurses. Those things, and the rattling emotions they all didn't know how to deal with.

It didn't matter how exhausted he felt, or that he was ready to pass out at any second. Gus knew he wouldn't be getting any sleep until the night passed and Shawn was cleared as stable. Missing a few days of work and going without decent rest was worth it for his friend. He knew Shawn would do the very same thing for him.

"Sir, for the last time, get OFF your phone!"

Rolling his eyes, Gus decided to face the beast that was Henry Spencer before they kicked him out of the building. After all, he was going to need the company to get him through the next twelve hours.

He gave a deep sigh. It was going to be a long night.

* * *

><p>On rare occasions would you find the SBPD briefing room used this late in the night. In fact, on the normal days, Chief Vick would be long done with her work and at home with her husband and daughter by now.<p>

Sadly, today wasn't one of those days. Today was one of the days that they pushed themselves to their very brink, digging into a case that seemed to be nothing but a bottomless pit. These days were rare, but nonetheless, they existed in the job.

The room's door was kept shut, the occupants insisting no one dare bother them. The Chief, Lassiter and Juliet couldn't afford distraction at this point. The slightest disturbance would break the intense concentration held between them. The day's events had left them brittle, exhausted, and on the edge.

Vick stood, her arms planted on the table while she studied the files laid out in front of them. It was a poor excuse for a case review – words being thrown onto paper at last minute, but it was better than nothing. She needed to keep structure to the situation and this was the only way to do that.

Meanwhile, the two detectives sat at the table, noticeably a few chairs apart. Karen wouldn't lie and say she hadn't sensed the tension between them. However, she had much more important things to worry about than a petty catfight that might've happened. There was no reason to pick at the little things; after all, they were all uptight.

"Okay," She said, standing straight. "Give me a recap, detectives."

Carlton, who had slumped heavily in the chair during his pondering, grudgingly straightened his posture. He dared not disrespect the Chief, but exhaustion sank deep in his bones. He straightened the papers on the table.

"At approximately 12 am on the 21st, Shawn Spencer was driving presumably to his apartment, when an unmarked vehicle – a 1999 Chevy converse van – began following his moves. Spe-Shawn…came to notice the behavior and took various actions to shake the suspect. This included driving into well-lit areas with surveillance cameras nearby. The footage obtained from Santa Barbra Traffic Control shows that he circled these areas nearly three times."

Any traces of his true feelings were gone from his face, but Carlton had a bad feeling just from hearing himself speak. He read the words as they were written on paper, but it just didn't seem right.

Karen had turned from Lassiter to O'Hara, expecting her Junior Detective to make a statement.

Juliet's weary eyes focused on the papers, "By 1 am, the suspected became agitated at his inability to supposedly make a move and attack Shawn in a private location. His vehicle sped up to approximately 55 to 60 miles per hour, colliding with the back end of the victim's Norton motorcycle." She briefly stopped, swallowing heavily against the lump in her throat.

"Surveillance footage shows the victim being propelled forward from the motorcycle and crashing horizontality into the nearest light post. The motorcycle would later be found in nearby bushes, where it was launched from the crash, by highway patrol at 9:13 am on the 21st."

Juliet dared not to continue, though she never looked to Carlton for his approval in the halt of their analysis. Her eyes stayed glued on the files, words that never bothered her before suddenly stabbing her in the heart. 'Victim' and 'crash' stood out the most. She stayed stoic.

Carlton resumed the report, "After Shawn Spencer recovered from the crash and saw that his motorcycle couldn't be used, he made two phones for help. One to Henry Spencer, relation: father. And one to Carlton Lassiter, relation: coworker." He said.

"According to Henry, Shawn had requested for a ride, though the destination was never stated. Henry disconnected the call with no more information but that. Shortly after, Shawn made his second phone call, this time to me." He paused, hearing the phone call echo his ears for the millionth time that day. "Shawn had once again requested for a ride. No further information was received. The phone call was once again disconnected by the other party."

His empty and emotionless tone echoed the room, the busy station outside of them merely a distortion and background blur. The further the report continued, the heavier they felt weighed down by the case.

Snatching a few of the papers, Vick felt frustration boiling in her blood. She skimmed the words with a heavy sigh, "So Shawn finds his way to the nearest familiar location, being the Psych office. He's then found at 6 am by Mr. Guster and transported to Cottage Hospital. Injuries include a class four hemorrhage brought on by prolonged internal bleeding. As of 7:30 pm tonight, he stands to be critical."

She looked up, "Anymore evidence, detectives?"

Carlton shook his head, "The only evidence that the case holds is a scrambled text message that, once O'Hara deciphered, came to say the crash wasn't an accident and that the assailant had blonde hair. As we know, you're the receiver of that text message, Chief."

"So far no previous cases with the SBPD or Psych stand to match this statement." Juliet said.

Vick tapped her foot, "And we're sure it's not this McLean?" She asked.

Carlton nodded, "His alibi came through and his physical features don't match Shawn's message."

"So we have nothing?" Karen's question went unanswered. The two detectives bowed their heads, frustration and shame radiating off them.

Carlton was the one who spoke up, "Nothing as of right now. But there's still a chance that we can find something in Guster's files."

It went without saying that the chance he spoke of was very slim. If anything could be found, chances are it would've been discovered by now. They weren't even a day into the case and already at ends point.

Karen sighed, turning to her Junior Detective. "O'Hara?"

"Chief, there's just no way this was something that tracks back to SBPD. It had to be with Psych, or…" Juliet's words had trailed off, leaving a brief moment of silence before her partner stepped in.

"Or it was personal." Carlton had finished.

Karen sighed, "And, unfortunately, it doesn't seem that Shawn will be able to tell us his side of the story anytime soon."

It left them with nothing. Grainy footage and a scrambled text message was all they had in their hands to figure out who would want to kill Shawn, and more importantly why. And they didn't have a single hunch to go on. Normally doing these matters, they'd call in the one person who was best at grabbing leads out of thin air.

It went unspoken, but they all wished Shawn was here to help them out.

The Chief stood straight, her eyes locking on the two partners. "Detectives…it's all on you. Find me something soon."

They were dismissed with those words, a simple statement that held so much more power than what a walking bystander would hear. Carlton and Juliet left the briefing room with a heavier burden than when they had entered. It was up to them to find this scumbag. And despite the lack of evidence and clues, it was up to them to search until they had nowhere to go.

And if they didn't find anything soon, the Chief would surely close the case until further leads were found. It wasn't something they could fight…it was standard practice.

It was on them.

Carlton practically had to jog to keep his pace with Juliet, who made it clear that she didn't want to be within walking distance of her partner. When they had re-entered the bullpen, she dashed towards her desk with no time to waste.

"O'Hara, listen-"

Juliet began to gather her belongings, seemingly ignoring him. "I'm going to take a share of the files and Shawn's laptop back to my place. I want to be able to go straight to the hospital in the morning."

Drawers flew open and papers were shoved into yellow folders. Carlton stood still and watched, his partner's behavior no surprise to him. "O'Hara…"

Once more, Juliet didn't respond.

"You're mad." He said, somewhat stating the obvious. She had every right to be, and he understood that.

Ever since leaving McLean's apartment, when he had grudgingly admitted that Spencer had called him earlier that morning, she had been fuming with a rage he couldn't compete with. And while it was understandable, he just wanted her to acknowledge him. They couldn't let this come between them, not when there was too much work ahead to deal with.

"O'Hara-"

Juliet slammed a drawer shut. "_Don't!_"

Though startled by her outrage, Carlton held onto his straight-forward face as her enraged eyes bored into his.

"Don't. Don't you talk to me. Don't you try and make this better, Carlton. Because you _won't_ be able to." She hissed. Slamming yet another drawer shut, she didn't care if any fellow officers were paying attention to the scene she had created.

Carlton found himself pissed off at her words. "Don't you think I feel bad enough about this, O'Hara? I _do_! Spencer may be a pain in my ass, but I never intended for this to happen!" He retorted.

"Of course you didn't!" Juliet shouted, "No one assumes you did, and we never would! That's _not_ what I'm angry about."

She took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down. "You really showed your true colors, Carlton. I understand you and Shawn have never seen eye-to-eye…but I never, _never _pinned you as the type of guy to turn him away when he asked for help." She wouldn't be able to tell if her words had hit him or not. His expressions stayed hidden underneath the tired bags below his eyes - the only emotion he dared to show being resentment to her words.

Her feet began to pick up pace as she stormed away from the desk. "And you know what really baffles me? When has he ever turned _you _away when you needed help?"

Juliet scoffed, "Even when you were too proud to ask, he was there."

Carlton shook his head, following suit as anger quickly boiled within. "That's not fair, O'Hara! Henry did the same damn thing and I don't see you preaching to him."

Juliet never stooped to his level - she never retorted back in the same manner he had to her. They both knew she didn't need to though, her hostility showing clear as day. "As hard as it is for me to say, I wouldn't have expected any less from Mr. Spencer. But you, Carlton?"

She barely gave him a second glance, "I expected a whole lot more from you." Her voice came softer than a whisper, but held enough venom to kill.

Standing just feet away from the station's open doors, more than ready to leave the godforsaken building that tore her very being to shreds that day; Juliet had come to a halt. She turned around and realized that her partner had followed her to the entrance way.

He stood, hands in pockets with his shoulders slumped. If she hadn't been listening, she surely would've never heard what he had said next.

"If I had known…"

She nodded. She understood. Sadly, it wasn't a magical fix, and it surely didn't make things better.

Juliet gave a sigh. "It's too late now, isn't it?"

The silence that fell between them as the only answer they needed.

The doors closed as Juliet left, this time with less force than the drawers of her desk, but the impact of the matter no softer. Lassiter was unaware of how long he stood in the entry way, life around him in the precinct continuing forward. He wasn't aware of when he had decided to get back to work, and even after that did the tension with his partner hold strong to him.

This wasn't something that would blow over in a few days, and he knew that. O'Hara was beyond angry that he had ignored Spencer's call. The more that the night went on, the more he agreed with her sentiments. After all, if he hadn't hung up on Spencer, he wouldn't be here on his sixth cup of coffee trying to figure out why all this had happened to begin with.

Sitting at his desk, Carlton let his head fall into his hands. It was going to be a long night.


	10. Safe

**Chapter Ten:  
>Safe<strong>

**_Santa Barbara, 1989_**

This. Was. Awesome.

Shawn felt like he was floating – no, flying. Though his eyes were closed and beneath his lids only darkness - none of those spotty colory drifty things he'd see before going to sleep - he felt like he was flying through Metropolis as Superman. Just without the inside-out underwear.

In fact, there'd be a much cooler costume, but he was digressing. This felt _awesome. _

The last thing he remembered was being dragged back into the outpatient building by a very ticked off Henry. His getaway plan so cleverly titled 'escape horrific departure of tonsils' had failed, and with his mother out of state for work, he had no one there to convince his father to see his side of the situation. Even the nurses and doctors agreed with the man's decision. The tonsils were going bye-bye.

The last thought he remembered, just before going under, was that if they wanted his tonsils so much, they surely weren't for free and he better be getting paid for them. Now all he could think about was the rush of adrenaline he felt as his body soared through the pit-dark sky's ahead.

Because this. felt. awesome.

"_Shawn, come on kid, open your eyes."_

He had to wonder about all the awesome possibility's he'd have with this flying thing. Obviously there'd be the fame and glory. Oh how Shawn longed for the fame and glory.

"_Shawn, kiddo, come on…"_

Then there were the girls. Oh man, Jenny Scott would totally dump Lenny and go straight for him. I mean, what middle school girl wouldn't want to date someone who could fly?

Yeah, fame and girls. It was just what destiny had in store for him. He knew that his eyes were closed, at least he assumed as much, but whether or not his face shared the same grin that he held inside was unknown.

Shawn was happy though. Flying towards the golden destiny ahead of him.

"_Sir, I told you. It's just a mild reaction to the anesthesia…give him time."_

Flying was awesome. Since he was flying, obviously he was a Superhero.

Oh! A superhero! He would fight crime – the great Shawn Spencer. No, scratch that, _The Catch. _His totally legit little league record would give Santa Barbra the hero it needs, but not the one it deserves.

Wait. The sensation of flying coming to a brief halt. Something about that line sounded familiar…

"_Don't you dare tell me to calm down, lady! Just ten minutes ago your doctor told me that his pulse had dropped to practically zero. I won't calm down until I see this boy's eyes open."_

Nah, something that awesome surely had to be a Shawn original.

Oh, and hey, he could even get Gus involved. Just not as Tap-man. There had to be a sewage waste dump around Santa Barbra somewhere - that'd give him cool mutant powers in a jiffy. Maybe he could shoot laser beams from the bottom of those tap shoes or something. They'd figure it out together, they always did.

So let's see – superpower, check. Hero adored by the city, check. Girls at his every whim, check. Jenny Scott, check. That only meant crime to fight. And for there to be crime, obviously he needed a villain. Comic book rule number uno.

That realization hit him hard, and suddenly flying didn't seem so thrilling. For some reason, the thought of a villain sent a chill down Shawn's spine. And his stomach seemed to be tossing around like he had eaten a bad burrito, the kind Officer Peters would give him when his dad pulled the night shift. Ugh, those burritos were horrible.

But seriously, could he fight a villain? Could the city trust him to fight a villain? Not that he doubted himself or anything absurd like that, it was just…well, if he failed; the city would blow up or something.

"_Shawn, kid, come on! Open your eyes. It's time to wake up."_

Okay, now he wanted to stop flying. He didn't ask to save the city, especially not by himself! Though he was sure they could give Gus some superpowers too, there was always a possibility he'd be stuck in this alone. And his mom would really be upset if she came home from Florida to have the whole city destroyed by Lenny the ultra-lame-basketball player (super villain name in the works.)

His mom! If he had learned anything from his comics, the villains _always _came after the hero's loved ones. His mom would be the first to go. Then Gus, who surely couldn't defend himself with those silly tap shoes. Having the city blown to smithereens was something he could live with, but there was no way he'd go on without those two. What was he supposed to do? He knew how to escape the back of a locked car trunk, but this…his dad hadn't taught him how to get out of this situation, not yet anyways.

His dad.

Of course!

Where was his dad when he needed him?

"_It's time to wake up, Shawnie. Wake up for dad, kid."_

The voice was faint, like a ringing buzz from another room. He wanted to believe it was there, but for all he knew Lennister Lameo (name still in works) had created a trap to capture him and go after his mom and Gus. He really wanted his dad…his dad always knew what to do.

It felt like he had rode the Magic Mountain rollercoaster at Six Flags over fifty times. His head was spinning and his stomach was in a knot, and suddenly the sensation of flying went from being really cool to really terrifying. Someone really needed to show him where the off button was, because Shawn wanted to stop flying _now. _If he could just find his dad…

"_Hey, there ya go. Come on, Shawnie…"_

Shawn knew that voice anywhere, even flying thousands of feet in the air.

"_There we are. Keep opening th_ose eyes, Shawn. There we are."

His dad smiled down at him. "Hey kid."

"mhmhm…" Shawn moaned; his eyes barely open enough for you to see the brown puddles beneath his lids. "Iz dnt wnn be za ctch…"

Henry's eyebrows furrowed together with confusion. "Say again, Shawn?"

After much swallowing and a few ice chips later, Shawn managed to speak more clearly. "I don't…wanna be…the catch."

Like tying a brick to a flying balloon, the sound of his father's laughter seemed to bring him back down on the hospital bed that he laid in. And while the sickening feeling in his stomach took longer to disperse, just being weighted back to earth was enough for Shawn. He had plenty enough of all that flying, and he could certainly fight crime when he was older.

Though his eyes had managed to find their way open, his vision stayed blurry on the white tiled ceiling above him. When the laughter turned to chuckles, and the chuckles to silence, his dry throat cracked out, "Dad?"

A rough hand firmly grabbed his shoulder, gathering the hospital gown in a bunch as if to prove his touch was real. "Right here, kid."

Henry felt the boy relax under his grip, a wide and goofy grin plastered on his face that not even diminishing anesthesia could take away. The same stupid grin that usually pissed him off to no end, considering it was always attached with some sort of trouble.

This time though, Henry just smiled with him. "I'm right here, Shawn."

**Present Day**

The morning broke with a taunting and mocking sunrise that drew frustration within Juliet. Still wearing last night's clothes, which were slowly becoming the clothes from the day before that, she had quickly pulled into a parking spot in front of the Psych office and dashed to the entrance door with what little energy she had in her.

'_Meet me at Psych. Now.'_ Gus had texted her, no more than twenty minutes ago at 6 am.

'_Did you find anything? Clue? Evidence?' _She had responded. No answer was received.

It wasn't like she had been woken up and dragged out of bed to be here. No, sleep was something she saw very little of since the attack on Shawn. Both she and Lassiter had seen little to none of their apartments in the past four days, having spent their nights in the station even long after the Chief had shelved the case for lack of evidence. The inconvenience of the matter wasn't what bothered her, but rather the lack of an answer given as to why she needed to be here.

His blue Echo was already in its appropriate parking space, so she wasn't surprised that the door was unlocked and even jarred open.

"Gus?" Juliet called out.

This time, she didn't need an answer. Gus stood less than five feet away from her, his arms crossed over his chest and his posture straight as could be. And while the night sky was still clearing out from the clouds, there was enough morning sunlight to see his every feature.

He didn't look much better than her; in fact, she'd go out of her way to say that he looked worst. Dark and heavy bags hung from underneath his eyes, and his wrinkled purple dress shirt hung out of his pants. Scratch that, his fireman pajama pants.

Gus stared straight ahead, his eyes never wavering out of focus, even when Juliet had stepped foot inside the office. At first, with her reactions at their slowest, she was confused to what he was looking at. Then it hit her.

Juliet frowned. "Gus…"

He barely even blinked. "I want to sell it." Gus said, his voice monotone.

"The lazy boy?" Juliet had to do a double take, eyesight switching back from Gus to the chair.

Gus only nodded, never once looking over at her. Birds outside chirped, and the distant sound of early morning board walk activity seeped through the open door, but other than that the room held complete silence.

"I…" Juliet looked ahead, "I don't think Shawn would want that."

"I don't care." Gus stated. "I want to sell it. I want it gone."

Though he tried to hide it, Juliet heard his voice crack at the last word he spoke. She looked back over at him, posture still stiff as a board and arms clenched tightly around his body, but her vantage point suddenly opened to a new sight. Behind the exhaustion and frustration were pieces of a broken friend, broken pieces she saw shattering around him.

The report echoed through her ears. Gus had found him; he had saved him. In the very chair they looked at could Shawn have taken his last breath. The very chair where he spent approximately 3 to 4 hours waiting for anybody to help him, suffering from the effects of shock and blood loss that left him so critical the doctors didn't think he'd ever recover.

But he did. He was, anyways, recovering that was. Both Juliet and Gus knew that, they were watching Shawn slowly make progress to be with the living world again. They hadn't lost him; the only thing they were losing was the chance of finding the scumbag that tried to kill him.

"Shawn loves it." Juliet spoke, "Maybe you should wait until he's awake and…can decide with you, or something."

Gus didn't reply, but something in his face showed that he acknowledged her words. He wasn't ignoring her, she knew that much. But as she observed him, Juliet could tell that he had long since made his decision, she surely wasn't brought here to talk him in or out of it

The chair wasn't stained, torn or damaged in any way. Aside from the clumps of dirt that a wet rag could easily take care of, you wouldn't be able to tell that something so horrific had occurred on it. Shawn didn't bleed externally all over the leather covers, and the vomit had stained the carpet another five feet away from them. Externally, there was no sign of a near death experience happening in this room. Just looking at the chair and you'd assume everything was fine.

She realized in that moment why he wanted to rid himself of the furniture.

"Oh." Juliet whispered under her breath. "Ohhh."

It all made sense.

_She _wasn't the one that had found Shawn. _She _wasn't the one to see him moments away from death. In fact, the first time Juliet saw Shawn, the doctors were talking about how much his skin color had improved. Two minutes before that, she was thinking about how she had never seen a person look so deathly pale before. All this was on the first day he had been in the hospital. If he looked as horrific as he did than, she would never be able to imagine the sight Gus had to deal with.

And he was still dealing with it. Every time he entered the office, every time he walked through the door, the chair was there to greet him. The chair was a reminder of how close he had come to losing his best friend; his other half, the other part of his soul. The chair hadn't been soiled with blood or vomit, but the sight of Shawn slumped down against the cushions, muddy, wet and dying was a stain Gus could never remove from his memory.

"I think my neighbor might want it." Juliet broke the thick silence. "If not…I'm sure I have a cousin that'll take it."

His head turned to her for the first time since she had arrived, and Juliet returned the gesture. "Yeah?" Gus rasped out.

She nodded. "Yeah."

Gus's blood-shot eyes began to glisten over, and Juliet could feel the relief flooding through him. They both hadn't noticed that the sun had fully risen until they both turned their eyes back to the chair, now illuminated completely by daylight.

His voice came out softer than a whisper, "Good." Gus had said.

Though she didn't have a reason to, after that Juliet decided to stay at Psych. It wasn't to find anymore files or evidence to their deteriorating case, or to keep Gus company. Why, she didn't really know. But it didn't matter.

* * *

><p>Shawn felt like he was falling.<p>

The sensation ran deep through his bones, his muscles assaulted by the very feeling. He could compare it to that split moment before you fell asleep, and suddenly it was like you were falling off a mountain or cliff. Hypnotic or hypo jerk, Gus told him. He didn't remember; he was paying attention to Judge Judy at the time. But that's what it felt like…only this time, there was no waking up – he was caught in that sudden mental drop of gravity.

It was torture; Shawn just wanted someone to catch him.

His ever powerful memory proved to be ineffective when put to use. He couldn't remember anything, where he was or why, what was going on, what day or time it was – he had nothing. All his questions and thoughts were long lost in a dark and heavy fog that clouded his mind. Whenever he tried to grab onto a thought, it would slip away and disappear in the blackness.

All he knew was that somehow, somewhere, he was falling.

"_Hey, hey…" _

Soft words spoke near his ear, gentle but firm, familiar yet different. Shawn couldn't put a face to the voice, which turned out to be more frustrating than he expected. There wasn't a time in his life that he couldn't recall the slightest detail in everything that surrounded him. It was just how he functioned. But he knew that for some reason, he was okay…because he trusted that voice.

"_He's starting…come out of…just give…a second…Spencer."_

The voices were becoming more distant and harder to figure out. Were they different people? Did he know them? The more that he heard, the more that questions piled up on each other. He had thought about opening his eyes, but he couldn't remember where his eyes were or how to peel the lids apart.

That was normal, right? Surely it had to be, because he wasn't panicking over it. You'd panic over something like that.

"_A second? It's…almost four days; he doesn't…a damn second!"_

That Shawn had heard and understood. Something wasn't right if his safety voice was starting to panic. He knew that he should be analyzing the situation, but he felt so disconnected from his body that he didn't know which way was left or right. One moment he'd be in his mind and clinging to his thoughts, and the next he was falling away from any connection to his brain. If he could just think through the fog…

"_Hey…on, kiddo…you can…it." _

In and out. It was all he knew – the voices would come in and out, his mind would go in and out, and he wasn't even sure where he would go when it happened. And though the fog wasn't lifting, everything around him seemed to get stronger and louder. The sounds, which he noted was a lot of beeping and shuffling, and the smells, which left his nostrils with a sense of familiarity but endangerment.

"mhhhhggahhm…"

He wasn't too sure who had just made that humiliating sound, but he sure hoped to God that it wasn't him. It sounded like a dying cat caught between a cow giving birth and a crying baby. With his brain disconnected from everything else, it was hard to tell whether or not he was in pain. He knew that his body felt like a giant cotton ball. Somethinghurt, but the ache was so distant he couldn't find time to dwell on it before escaping from his mind once more.

"_he's…pain…can…do anything?"_

"_We want…remember, Mr. Spencer? He…be brought…drugs…wake up…start healing."_

Though Shawn heard the words like they were being tossed around in the air, he at least finally understood something. He was sleeping, which meant he could just open his eyes and get rid of all this confusion in a jiffy.

Now, where were his eyes again?

"mhm..gahhurh…"

That distant ache he had initially started to feel began to make itself known. Something really washurting. And it wasn't just a small sting or throb, this was pure agony. Leg, arm, back, butt? There was no time to figure out where the source of the torture was coming from – everything slammed down on him at once. His body suddenly went from being a cotton ball to a brick weight.

He was trapped. Trapped within a body he couldn't move or function, with pain radiating from his core to his every muscle.

"_I'm right here, Shawnie."_

A light switch had turned on faster than a speeding bullet. He knew that voice.

"uhrh…daauhrdd.."

"_Shh, don't try and talk Shawn. Just open your eyes."_

Uh, small problem with that.

"_Just open them, kid."_

If he knew where his eyes were, Shawn surely would've rolled them at his father's ability to judge so quickly. The man spoke his words as if he had already decided he wasn't going to open his eyes. And though that was a possibility Shawn was thinking of, he hadn't made his decision just yet.

Now he really didn't have a choice. Some help would surely be appreciated tho-

"MhmHMMGAH."

There was no doubt that the sound came from him this time. Embarrassment was long forgotten though after a bright light flooded through his eyeballs and practically straight up blinded him.

"Looking good. Pupils are starting to make improvement. We'll keep weaning him off of the Opana today, and by tomorrow he should be coherent."

Shawn didn't know who was speaking, but the stabbing pain that emitted through his skull was enough to make him hate the person. Even with the light being removed from his sight, the lingering effects left him seeing stars and blurry figures. If they wanted to ask him something, couldn't they wait until morning when he was awake? It couldn't be so important that they needed…-

Another light switch clicked on.

"Shawn, can you see how fingers I'm holding up?"

No, no, shut up. He needed to think. Something in the very back of his mind started eating its way to his brain. Something told him he couldn't go in and out this time; this was important.

"Shawn, how many fingers?"

Assuming he _could _see the blurry puddle of skin and bones in front of him, Shawn didn't care about fingers. There was something he was supposed to care about. Something about…cars? Or cameras? It started with a C. He knew that. He needed to know that.

"Mhm…he's still heavily medicated. It may be a little while more before we see him coherent, Mr. Spencer."

Blurry and murky figure number one seemed to upset blurry and murky figure number two. He drowned out the conversation near him with thoughts of cars and cameras, and whatever connection they had to make.

It ate at the back of his mind like a plague. Why couldn't he just remember?

"He's here. He's fighting it, I can tell. Shawn, come on kiddo."

Chapped lips broke apart, "mhm…carrrrr…"

Henry gripped Shawn's shoulder, scooting himself closer to the bed. "Shawn? What'd you say, kid?"

"…ddaad?"

His voice was too quiet for even himself to hear, but Shawn had to wonder if his raspy voice traveled the confusion he felt deep inside. And while his dry and out of focus eyes only saw puddles of colors and blurry shapes, the familiar smell of his father was impossible to miss, especially in the midst of the sterile clean environment surrounding him. He didn't need the firm hand on his forearm to know the person sitting next to him.

"I'm right here, Shawn."

The touch was warm enough to melt an iceberg. It sent a shudder through his body, one that actually brought his spine off of the bed. Like the tormenting pain radiating through his body, he didn't realize how cold he felt until warmth found itself to him. His teeth started to chatter with such a force that he could crack a nut.

Car. Camera. He knew that much, and was confident that his memory wouldn't forget. Between the pulsation pain, aching head and cold skin, he decided that the next time he drifted out from his mind; he wouldn't try and come back.

The last thing he remembered was a squeeze to his hand, and warm breath spreading across his ear.

"I'm right _here, Shawn."_

The voice faded away as darkness engulfed him, and with confusion put aside, Shawn welcomed it. He trusted that light would return once again. After all, his father was here. He was safe.


	11. 1 Lead, 2 Lead, 3 Lead, Pineapple

**Chapter Eleven:**

**1 Lead, 2 Lead, 3 Lead, Pineapple. **

Falling, spinning, flying – Shawn couldn't tell the difference anymore. One moment it was dark, the next there were spotty colors, and sometimes there was a blinding light. He knew he wasn't dead, because he was pretty sure death didn't hurt this much. Though technically he couldn't tell you from experience - that was unless he was dead right now, in which case he could say that death stung like a bitch.

"_it looks…day…high…visit…"_

But, he was pretty sure he wasn't dead. Because he kept hearing those voices. They would come from different ranges, sometimes up close and sometimes so distant it was like a faint buzz. Regardless of the proximity, the sounds would always be muffed in that sort of way that you could understand it…but at the same time you couldn't.

Okay, that made no sense. His sense of perception was more off than an out of date GPS.

"…_agree…cleared…"_

Was he flying while falling? It was hard to tell. He felt floaty, and not completely in his body. The only sense of certainty he held was the constant tangle of confusion that would plague his mind during any moment of awareness. He could remember seeing blurry figures…a part of him wanted to say it was his dad and Gus, but yet again he could've sworn he saw Patrick Swayze and Tyler Perry too.

Shawn remembered because it had gotten so cold he felt like someone had thrown him into the snow, and Patrick Swayze had given him a thick blanket to ease his chills. And god-freaking-holy-cow did his skin HURT. It was like someone had been using him as a Stretch Armstrong toy while he was asleep.

"_Ow…ow…"_

Wait, was that him?

"_OW."_

Nope, not him. In fact, Shawn was pretty sure he didn't even have a tongue anymore. If he did, it was replaced with a ball of cotton, because he couldn't feel a single thing in his face. Everything below that? Yeah, signals came in loud and clear shoulders and down.

"_needed…"_

"_bad…spine…"_

Oddly he noted that goosebumps ran across his skin. He felt cold – no, worse, he felt wet. But he wasn't wet, was he? He felt dry, but still like a flood of rain had drenched him soaked.

He wasn't wet, though. But he was.

"_couldn't sleep…through them…"_

He was drugged. Though his thoughts fogged and cloudy, he knew that much to be true. Well, he didn't know, but it was either drugs or death. And while his own personal preference in life was little to no experience with drugs, he knew the feeling of not being able to hold onto any of his thoughts.

It was drugs.

"_god….Buzz…"_

And not little white pill drugs, or take a shot of cherry flavored syrup - which really shouldn't be labeled cherry when it tastes like bleach. It was a warm sensation of reality altering liquid that flowed through his very veins.

"…_we going?"_

Darkness pulled him under with such strength that he didn't fight it. He thought his ears had begun to fail him when a blanket of quietness fell over the room, and tough it was a change, Shawn welcomed the silence as his mind drifted off once more into the flow of buoyant ambience.

* * *

><p>"Well folks, four days later and it looks to be another gorgeous sunny day here in Santa Barbra with a high of 85 and little to no clouds in the sky. It seems like the rain man has come and gone with his visit, wouldn't you say Joe?"<p>

"Why I do have to agree there, Will. The storms have cleared out and-"

_*click*_

Henry shut off the overhead TV with disgust. It was the same thing he had heard on most every channel he switched through, basic cable only providing them with fewer stations than the count of his fingers and toes combined. Yes, the torrent of rain they had received passed on by, and though the hospital room's blinds were only half-way open, he could see that the sun was shining through the morning sky. But he didn't need the constant reminder every five minutes. Just remembering those rains would twist his stomach into knots.

Had it really been four days? Time had blurred together long ago, mornings and nights becoming nothing more than an hour on the clock. Henry rubbed his dry eyes with one hand while regretfully taking a sip of his stale and cold coffee, all while being careful not to wake either two men in the room.

Gus pitifully lay in the chair across from him, a position that looked so painful it made Henry cringe every time he caught sight. Half-slouched down with his left leg bent over the armrest, the man would need to consider seeing a chiropractor when this whole thing was said and done. It went without saying that Henry would be doing so regardless.

And though at that moment he was out cold, Henry knew first hand that it was the most sleep Gus had gotten since this whole ordeal had started. The only time his son's friend had been out of the hospital for more than six hours was when he had been forced to return to work on Wednesday. That turned out to be a failed attempt when his boss had merely put him on a personal leave after a, to quote Gus himself, 'disastrous shift'.

Henry didn't further question the incident. He welcomed the company.

Since then, it had been the two of them keeping watch over Shawn, with the frequent visit from either Detective Lassiter or O'Hara; though strangely neither at the same time.

Henry looked down, not too surprised to see nothing new in his line of vision. Shawn still lay motionless in the hospital bed, and though the kid _had _improved immensely compared to the first day he arrived, it still pained him to see his kid so… stagnant. He really couldn't remember a moment when the kid wasn't bouncing off the walls – aside from the first minute after he was born, breeched from his mother with the cord wrapped around his neck. After that minute, his son was full of such energy that most days it drove him insane. Even in his sleep did Shawn toss and turn.

But not now. It sent a chill down his spine. It wasn't normal – it wasn't right. And to know the bastard who did this was still running around free as a bird…he had to shake off the thought, too exhausted to be angry after another sleepless night.

The good thing was that Shawn had been extubated just the other day, which gave the doctor's more relief towards his recovery. Slowly but surely did his BP, pulse and breathing improve through-out the week. The downside was, now with the tube removed, it left Henry with the haunting sounds of his son's cries of pain.

Doctor Anderson insisted he was barely there; 'in and out of a fog' to use the same words as the man. But hearing the groans and whimpers every few hours before the next dose of medication was induced practically tore him apart. Most of the time it was just sounds - his body too weak and drugged to produce actual words. One time he went off about hats. And then, at one point he was crying for his mother. Henry had to exit the room at that, leaving a very confused Gus to wonder why he was so upset. He didn't understand why it hurt so much to hear his son cry for the woman. He didn't know that Maddie, while broken that she couldn't be there, had picked work over family.

'_When was that ever not the case though?' _He glumly thought, another sip of stale coffee running down his throat.

"Ow…ow. Ow. OW."

Henry looked up and ahead at Gus. "I would've woken you up, but you needed the sleep." He simply stated.

Gus hissed in discomfort as he rubbed the back of his neck. "I didn't need it _that _badly. Oh god…I think I broke my spine."

Henry rolled his eyes. There were times where Shawn's behavior reflected in Burton Guster so clearly that you could tell they had been around each other since childhood. Gus's overdramatic statement proved to be one of those moments.

"He wake up at all?"

Henry shook his head. "No, not since the doctor knocked him out with another dose of painkillers."

Eyes set straight ahead on his resting friend; Gus nodded his head with recollection to the memory. Not long before he had dosed off did Shawn get so distressed that, even though they were weaning him off of the heavy duty drugs, they decided to knock him out cold for the night. The room had gotten eerily quiet after that, and that's what must've sent him off into his uncomfortable 'nap'.

Gus stood up from the chair, oddly imitating his grandfather in the process and stretched his stiff arms, careful not to knock into the various machinery surrounding him and Shawn. He managed to note that Shawn _did _look a little better, but still far from his normal self. He was just glad that a nurse had lent him an electric razor the other day – his friend was starting to resemble a grizzly bear, and that bothered him more than the respirator and NG tube combined.

While stretching, he managed to catch sight of what mess had been created in the corner of the hospital room.

"Did you go through those again?" Gus asked, directing Henry's attention over to the table of papers and folders.

"Hm?" Henry asked, "Oh, yeah. Couldn't sleep last night. Decided to give it another shot."

Gus fought off the urge to berate the man. "There's nothing there, Mr. Spencer. We agreed on that days ago."

The bags under Henry's eyes seemed to become more visible at the memory. They both could probably state the pile of cases from memory at the amount of times they had gone over each and every one, looking for any clue that might give them a possible lead on whoever tried to kill Shawn. And yet they had ultimately decided that no one fit the profile. If they weren't watching over Shawn or calming him down from whatever hysteria fit pain had put him through, they had been investigating those files.

Last night was the first night they stayed untouched on the wheeled table in the corner of the room. Or so Gus thought.

"No, no…" Henry answered, "I mean, I know we went through them. But looking at them again-"

Four knocks interrupted his sentence, and both Gus and Henry turned around to see Officer McNab peak his head through the doorframe.

"Morning." Buzz greeted. "Cup of joe?"

Gus practically lurched forward at the invitation for coffee, stumbling to the doorway as fast as his half-asleep legs would take him.

"_God _yes. You're my hero, Buzz." Gus smiled, taking both Styrofoam cups from the officer's hands.

Buzz fought off a frown, simply nodding his head in a professional responds. He couldn't help and think about how Shawn would always say the same thing when receiving a pineapple smoothie. Man how he'd kill to be doing a smoothie run for the guy right now.

Fact was he hated even having to look into the hospital room, the mere act of being inside sending chills through his body. The duty of being watch guard here was more than just a job for him. And it wasn't just a good friend that had been injured – his father was a veteran of the force.

He couldn't stop thinking about how the whole thing was messed up.

The elder Spencer took his cup of coffee from Gus with hesitation. "What's going on, Buzz?" Henry asked.

Henry knew better, and Buzz was aware of that. On duty, he wasn't allowed to step foot inside the hospital room. Technically, he wasn't allowed to speak to either Gus or Henry too, but they had found a loophole through that. Still, as much as he appreciated the coffee, Henry knew better.

Buzz shut the door behind him. "Officer Stevenson is here to take watch for a few hours. I have to stop by the station to get some paperwork done. I don't know how the case is going, but if you guys need to swing by with me I'd be happy to-"

Chair legs screeched against the tile floors.

"Come on, Gus." Henry shot up from his chair and grabbed his jacket with lightning speed.

"What? Where are we going?" Gus sputtered.

Henry never answered, though Gus never expected him to.

* * *

><p>Carlton discovered very quickly how annoying the station could become when there were no disturbances.<p>

Little things he always ignored before, like the phones ringing off the hook, the mindless chit-chatter of the clerks and cadets, and the fact that their AC vents made ridiculously clunky noises. These were all things that, though he wouldn't admit it aloud, Spencer always seemed to drown out. It was the equivalent of a cow replacing the presence of a donkey. Both were barn animals that made obnoxious noises. So he didn't know _why _it was bothering him so much…

But it was.

His pen tapped mercilessly against the papers laid out on his desk. In the past four days, thanks to his ever-drifting mind, he had gotten practically no work done. Aside from the very basics, there wasn't a task or case he could put his focus to without setting either one aside and eventually digging back into Spencer's files. Despite his trying efforts, there was no avoiding the reality of how the case had become personal for him. Wandering detectives and officers spoke through-out the halls of an attempted 187 that Carlton hadn't even realized was Shawn's case until just the other day.

Attempted 187. Attempted murder. This wasn't just an attempted homicide…this was Spencer. Personal outlook be damned, he refused to let a criminal run free from punishment.

He knew it was easier said than done, though. Lassiter let loose a deep sigh, the pen falling away from the space between his fingers. There wasn't an inch of research, files or locations he hadn't covered to find any sort of lead. And while he and his partner weren't on the best of speaking terms – those terms being five word sentences he'd receive maybe twice a day – he had faith she had done the same as him. They were both at the end of their rope. It was something the Chief had saw coming before them, way before them in fact.

In all technically, she had shelved Spencer's case yesterday. Something in her eyes showed that she would refuse to close it until the DA forced her on every level possible, but she still had to do her job. And that meant putting her head detective to use on cases that _could_ be solved.

If only she knew how productive that had left them both. Carlton, who stared vacantly at some nobody's crime case, and Juliet, slumped in her chair as she twisted a rubber band around all ten of her fingers.

Speaking of which, Lassiter's eyes caught a glance across the room where O'Hara sat at her desk. If he looked half as bad as she did, then he'd probably consider taking the day off. Her hair was falling out of a poorly done bun, her clothes slightly wrinkled and eyes drooping with exhaustion. The stress was evident, and Carlton could tell she hadn't had more than two hours of sleep at once. If she had, well, that was more sleep than he was getting.

Though Juliet wasn't the only one that had fallen victim to exhaustion, he could tell without even having spoken to her that she was being battered by the whole situation. They hadn't been on speaking terms, and he still didn't blame her for that. But it was the little things he'd catch notice of that tipped him off. She'd return from her lunch breaks with streaks of massacre down her cheeks and strands of hair sticking to her face. Lassiter knew she had returned from the hospital during those times. She'd go and reach for her phone, and suddenly find herself more irritated than the moment before, having to excuse herself from the room to calm down. He'd simply nod his head and leave it at that.

Carlton liked to think he knew his partner well from the time they had shared together. It's what made her words hurt the most, the words that haunted him almost as much as the phone call he received from Spencer himself.

Tired eyes closed as he bowed his head on his desk. Carlton couldn't remember the last time he slept – truly, really slept. If he wasn't here, he was at the hospital. If he wasn't at the hospital, he was catching a few minutes of rest in his car before returning to the station. His fire was burnt out. And at the end of it all, they still had nothing.

Maybe it was just time to –

"What about an ex?"

His head popped up, blood shot-eyes traveling to the sound that had caught his attention.

O'Hara stared straight back at him.

It was the first time she had made eye-contact in four days. He honestly didn't know what to say back to her. A part of him believed he had fallen asleep.

So she spoke again. "An ex-girlfriend? We did go over the possibility of the attempt being personal. Maybe…"

Carlton shook his head. "No…no, I checked all the recent indexes. The only way it was an ex is if it were the women from years, and I'm talking _years _ago."

Juliet pondered the thought.

"It's a possibility."

"It's a slim possibility, O'Hara." Carlton corrected, "We're not that desperate."

Juliet threw her hands down against the wooden frame of her desk. "Well unless _you _have something-!"

"Hey! I'm working on it." He retorted, "You know as well as I do that this is finding a needle in a haystack, O'Hara."

Watching as Juliet bowed her head, Carlton immediately regretted his tone of voice. The stress that emitted from her soul seemed to grow stronger with his choice of words. Of course he'd screw up any chance of reconciliation with his partner in 0.2 seconds flat.

A heavy sigh escaped his lips. "We'll just…have to wait until Spencer gives us some answers."

"It'll be too late by then, Carlton."

The voice was small and quiet, words that only escaped underneath her breath, but Lassiter heard them loud and clear. Though he dared not to look up from his enfolded hands, his eyes drifted off to the side at O'Hara's desk.

He hated to see her so broken down; a walking zombie of who she once was. Not only having to stand by helplessly as someone she obviously cared for hung by threads of life, but unable to do her job as an officer of law and find the person capable of doing such an act. On top of that, she had two men by her side that had chosen to ignore a plea of help sent by the victim.

It _probably _wouldn't kill him to give her some slack for once.

"They still keeping him medicated?"

Juliet looked over; double checking to make sure the words came from him. "The doctors are bringing him out of it today." She answered, "They say it'll be a while before he's coherent though."

Ah, of course. "Great." Lassiter grumbled. It figured that'd be their luck. O'Hara was right – they couldn't wait another four days for an answer from Spencer. They had another two days _tops _before the Chief closed the case.

They needed something – anything – to keep the investigation going.

"What about a former employer?" Carlton inquired.

Juliet shook her head, "No. I went through all 58 jobs and the management held to them. Thought I had a lead with the manager at Austin Texas's Hampton Inn; that guy has a _serious _grudge on Shawn. Something about broken pipes and a flooded hallway. But he came out clean."

He shot up from his desk. "You went through all of his employment history?" Carlton asked sharply.

Juliet simply nodded.

"Fantastic," He muttered, aggressively pushing the papers on his desk into a trashcan next to him. "That's five hours of investigating I've wasted."

Juliet frowned. "Why didn't you just ask me if I had that covered!"

Lassiter only responded to her retort with a mere expression, one that read 'you know full well why, O'Hara' all the way across his face.

And as she stared straight back at him, Juliet suddenly caught a true first glimpse of his blood-shot eyes, wrinkled suite and ruffled hair. She had seen him here at the station through-out the past few nights, bumped into him at the longue getting coffee, and even ran into him at the halls of the hospital at 3 am once or twice. But it never truly clicked with her that he had been just as stretched thin and exhausted as she was.

In that moment, Juliet decided that enough was enough.

"I'm sorry."

His head never shot up, nor did his eyes wander over. Carlton stood still where he was, staring down at the mess of papers that hadn't quite made it into the wastebasket.

"Not for what I said, because I _meant _that. I am upset with you, Carlton. But…" She let out a deep exhale; one that seemed to extract all her spite and bitterness with it. "I am sorry for my behavior. It's obviously gotten in the way of the investigation. There's no excuse for that."

Carlton didn't know how to respond. He stood there like a gaping fish, staring at the fallen papers as if they would magically jump up and dance the Macarena. A part of him was surprised O'Hara had the integrity to apologize, which surely took more balls than he ever had. Most of him was just surprised that she was apologizing…because frankly, he saw no reason for her to be doing as much.

He deserved every bit of the tongue lashing his partner had given him. If he didn't, than there'd have been no way he'd let it happen. Surely O'Hara knew that.

"I just…" Her voice came out small and quiet once again. "I can't look Shawn in the eyes and tell him we didn't find this guy because I was mad at you and Mr. Spencer. Mad that you two didn't give him a second thought. Mad that…mad that he didn't call _me_."

Carlton finally blinked. "O'Hara…" He looked her way, and in turn his shoulders collapsed with an unexpected weight of, dare he say, emotion.

"O'Hara, don't." He said, walking the way to her desk. "Don't beat yourself up over this. I'm sure…"

The sudden absence of personal space became extremely uncomfortable for him, but nonetheless, Lassiter force a hesitant hand on Juliet's shoulder. The glistening eyes that looked into his surely didn't help his level of awkwardness.

He continued on, "I'm sure that there's a very good reason Spencer didn't call you. And I'm _sure _he'll be the first to tell you when he can. And…as much as it pains me to say this, I'm also sure he'll be back here harassing you until I have to kick out his sorry ass."

The faintest outline of a smile traced across Juliet's lips.

"_And_…" Carlton seemed to be gagging on the oncoming words. "There's nothing for you to apologize about. I would've done the same thing in your shoes, O'Hara."

She seemed unsure. "Really?" Juliet asked.

It wasn't a lie. He nodded his head, assuring her of his every word. "I meant it. If I could go back…"

"I know."

Carlton choose to call it a coincidence when his hand squeeze Juliet's shoulder the same moment a single teardrop leaked from her eye.

"Are we good?" Juliet squeaked out, fighting off the lump lodged in her throat. The sudden on come of nervousness left her with the impulsive decision to throw her hand in the air, palm straight out in front of him. To be honest, Carlton _almost _thought she was going to slap him.

He fought off a smile, the corners of his lips managing only a slight twist as he nodded his head. "Yeah. We're good, O'Hara."

Juliet's eyebrows shot up, eyes darting over at her hand. Carlton managed an eye roll as he grudgingly gave her an apathetic high-five, but it was plenty enough for the junior detective.

Seemingly bound with more energy, she darted over to the other side of her desk. "Okay, so, last night I was reviewing the possibilities, that being the fact we've covered all the grounds we possibly can _but _the Psych cases."

Carlton furrowed his eyebrows. "But we _have _covered those."

"No," Juliet corrected. "We've _reviewed _them. But because there hasn't been any obvious leads, we haven't dug our teeth deep enough to really scratch them off our list."

"But we have."

Familiar voices came from behind, catching both Carlton and Juliet off guard as they spun around to face the sound.

"Mr. Spencer? Gus?" Juliet asked, watching the two drag their feet into the station.

Both mimicked their own appearance, exhausted and deadbeat with nothing but sheer willpower keeping them moving. There was no doubt that the heavier burdens they held weighed them down twice as much as the two detectives. Just looking at Henry made Juliet grimace.

Lassiter cut right to chase, "What do you have?"

Henry responded by slapping down four manila folders on Juliet's desk, and Gus came over to spread them out evenly. The two detectives quickly noted that each four folders contained a 2x3 photo clipped on the right top, all of which either photographed male or female blonde clientele.

"It's either them," Henry said gruffly. "Or no one."

Eyes quickly skimmed over the folders, "I don't understand. Andrew McKean, Jim Henderson, Susan Griffin, John Saint - why them?" Carlton asked.

"Wait, wait-" Juliet cut in, turning to Henry with concern. "First, how's Shawn doing, Mr. Spencer?"

Any other time, the interruption and intrusiveness would've rubbed him the wrong way and left him bitter. However, there was a genuine concern radiating off of the blonde detective that the retired detective just couldn't ignore.

Henry let out a sigh, "He's getting there. Doctors have been weaning him off of the strong stuff today. He's fighting it."

"He's still as loopy as a fruit loop, though." Gus cut in, "Can't get a straight answer out of him. So don't get any ideas."

Gus didn't hide the fact that his statement was directed straight towards Lassiter, eyes boring into the detectives as he spoke. And even while Carlton pretended he hadn't heard what the salesman had to say, hands fiddling through the manila folders, they all knew full well he had heard and acknowledged the words. He didn't need a reminder though. His lesson had been learnt the first and only time he tried getting a barely conscious Spencer to speak more than pure gibberish.

'_Dilaudid's one hell of a drug.' _Lassiter thought, remembering as he fought Shawn for any coherent thought besides his constant rambling about hats.

"Auto theft, adultery, internal business theft…this is all standard PI cases. Why these, Guster?"

"I don't know," Gus shrugged, "Ask him. I just provided the details."

All eyes turned to Henry.

"Out of all their cases, these four are the only ones who, according to Gus, left on bad terms with the agency." Henry stated, making sure to continue on even when Lassiter made an attempt to speak up. "They're _also_ the only ones with no contact information."

Whatever Carlton wanted to say became pointless at Henry's last statement. "So I'm assuming you contacted those with"-

"Grudges and contact information, yes. They were cleared." Henry cut in. "If it's anyone…it's these four."

Carlton chose to hide his boiling frustration with the elder Spencer by picking up the fourth and final case file, skimming over the text with ease. "Okay then. O'Hara, start digging around for phone numbers. Guster, give me details on the who's and why's of these four suspects. Henry, I need you to-"

"I'm not staying." Henry stated. "I need to get back to the hospital."

"What?" Carlton responded, baffled. "You said Shawn's as conscious as a new born kitten. He'll be fine."

Henry grunted, his decision unwavering. "Kid's been in and out of it all morning. I know how he is with medication – never reacted well, not since the day he was born. It's better if someone is there with him."

"I know I'm not in any position to say," Juliet suddenly piped in, her presence almost forgotten. "But it seems like you really need a break from that place, Mr. Spencer. Officer McNab is still going to keep watch today. Carlton is right, Shawn will be fine."

Juliet wished she could say that some sort of emotion was found in Henry after her words were spoken, but the man appeared just as tense and anxious as the second before.

Gus, seemingly knowing what was wrong, spoke up. "I'll go."

Henry turned to face him, weary eyes barely managing a look of surprise.

"Juliet's right. You need to get away from that place before you blow a fuse, Mr. Spencer." Gus said. "I'll go and stay with him."

"No can do, Guster." Carlton spoke up, laying the folders back down on his partner's desk. "We're going to need you for further details on the suspects, and anything else relevant to these Psych files. _Especially _if it comes down to needing a warrant for any one of them. You're needed here."

The choice seemed obvious to everyone, and Henry was even about to turn around and leave the station with suddenly, a small voice caught them off guard.

"I'll go." Juliet said.

Henry didn't hide his confusion. "Detective?"

"I'll go." Juliet repeated, "It'll be fine, no more than a couple hours – and I'll even take my laptop if you need me to do any research investigation. I'll just be a phone call away. It all works out."

Silence fell over the four, all seemingly waiting for one person to give the go-ahead on the decision.

Lassiter tapped the tip of his shoe against the tiled floor beneath them as he tried to find _any _reason to keep his partner with them at the station. But she wasn't being dumb when she said it would all work out. And while he really preferred to have her nearby to do the contact searching that would inevitably come, there was no reason it could've be done on her department authorized laptop with the Wi-Fi internet at Cottage Hospital.

He let out a low grunt. If Henry didn't look so worn out, he'd gladly have sent the man packing his bags anywhere from fifty feet near him.

"Okay, fine. Go." Carlton said. "Keep your phone on you at _all _times though, got it, O'Hara?"

Juliet firmly nodded her head, quickly gathering her belongings to make an exit. She refused to let herself smile until clear of all three men.

Carlton immediately took charge as she jogged away towards the department's exit way.

"Spotlight's on you, Guster. Why Andrew McKean?"

"Why not, Lassiter?"

"Oh for the love of – Spencer! I was not talking to you!"

Juliet barely held back a wince of regret as the station doors closed on the sound of her partner's bellow. She'd be lying if she said this was the smartest idea...it went without saying that Henry would be better off back at the hospital than accompanied with Lassiter. It was simply a matter of who would kill the other first.

* * *

><p>Karen collapsed at her desk, aching feet barely coming close to the hammering pain that echoed through her skull. It had been a long day – to say the very least, and just because it was Friday didn't mean that her troubles were close to being over. Her consultant was still in the hospital with no statement yet to be by him, and her two lead detectives devoting their time to his case that she had shelved long over twenty-four hours ago.<p>

Watching through her glass doors the duo dig deep into any possible leads, she let loose a sigh. Fact was she was fully aware that they were going well against her word. If it was any other case, she'd have caught them red handed with lectures to spare. But it wasn't just any other case, and surely not any other person. She had no problem looking the other way, if only to help out the same person who helped her so many times in the past.

The only setback was that when – and when certainly being the word – another case came in for them; she'd have to put that priority over anything else. With Santa Barbra's crime record, that was only a matter of hours. She didn't know if she had the strength to go forward and tell them it was over, that they had to stop all possible leads and give their time to something else.

"Nothing can ever be simple with you, can it Shawn?" Karen muttered, heavy head falling into her hands.

As her fingers tangled into her blonde strands of hair, a faint beeping sound rang in her ears. She knew the noise as an indication to a new text message, and without even looking up her hand found the cell phone located at the far left side of her desk. It was either her husband or the daycare center, either one most likely only out to make her day worst.

She unlocked her phone with expectations of misery, but instead was greeted with the notification of a full inbox.

"Oh for the love of – Spencer! I was not talking to you!"

Eyes rolled at the distant shouting from outside her office. Karen didn't even give it a second thought, shrugging it off as she went to delete all but her unread messages.

"_I _obviously have a hunch about these people, so how about-"

'_Oh god,' _Karen thought. _'I can't put up with this.'_

Though she didn't expect Henry to stay long with his son in the hospital, Karen arose from her desk with full intentions on kicking one or both men out of her station. _Especially _knowing how the two behaved around each other, there was no way she'd risk another minute of their bickering.

As she went to leave, the illuminating light from her cell phone caught the corner of her eyes. She back tracked her steps until she could fully see what the screen had to offer her.

"Oh my…" Picking up the phone to make sure that her eyes hadn't deceived her, Karen felt the breath suddenly leave her lungs.

"Oh my god."

Only one thought flooded her shocked mind.

'_How did I miss this?'_


	12. The 'un'Usual Suspects

**Chapter Twelve:**

**The (un)Usual Suspects**

Between the sound of nurses talking, machinery beeping, and the shuffle of numerous staff members, Juliet noted that her high heels seemed to make the most sound as she led her way down the halls of the hospital. Every click on tile ground seemed to remind her of how much closer she was to her destination, and though she told herself she was a big girl and could handle anything that came her way…the thought of what was to come put her stomach in knots.

In the past four days, the most she had seen of Shawn was through a glass window; a safe distance that she hadn't been allowed to break.

Until now.

Seeing Buzz sitting directly outside hospital room B1C brought a flood of relief she didn't realized needed to be felt. His welcoming grin calmed her shaking nerves as she approached the end of the hallway.

"Detective O'Hara!" He greeted her, setting aside the torn and ragged issue of People magazine in his hands. "I didn't expect to see you here. Everything alright with Mr. Spencer?"

"Yeah, yeah." Juliet answered, "He just needed a break. He and Gus are helping Lassiter with the case. And while I'm sure you're doing a fantastic job here-"

"Say no more." Buzz interrupted, one hand held in the air. "I'd be just as concerned if I was in his shoes."

Juliet felt herself smiling back at his polite grin. Though exhausted and stressed, she could tell that the officer really cared. It put her at a much needed ease.

"How much longer are you assigned here today?" She asked, "I saw Officer Stevenson leaving the parking lot when I pulled in. Do you have another long shift ahead?"

"Actually…" Buzz frowned, "The Chief is pulling watchdog duty at 8 tonight."

"What?" Juliet gasped, "What about…I mean…does she think he's safe?"

Buzz vigorously shook his head. "Oh god no. Neither do I, which is why I'll be here regardless of what she assigns me to. She just has her orders to follow, I guess."

"But so do you, Buzz." Juliet reminded him. "You can't stay here if she removes you from the job. I know that you're concerned about Shawn, but…"

"Hey." He cut in, "Don't worry about me - I'll take a personal leave if I have to. I'm not leaving here though, not until I know Shawn is safe."

Juliet seemed weary of his answer, about to debate him again before he spoke up.

"You feel the same way. Both you and Carlton. You guys wouldn't be working on a shelved case otherwise."

His words hit her hard. Knowing that he had made up his mind, Juliet dropped the subject with an understanding sigh. It was true, after all. There was a gut feeling they all seemed to share, one that told them something just wasn't right. As hard as they tried, they couldn't ignore it, going as far as disobeying the Chief's orders to continue onward with their investigation. Though Juliet would be lying if she had said that the Chief wasn't onto more than what she appeared to know.

'_She's too smart…' _Juliet thought, _'She feels the same way we do. Why would she pull Buzz if she knows Shawn isn't safe? Especially if she's letting us work on his case? I don't understand…'_

Shaking the thought, she took a small glance at the closed blinds leading into the hospital room, in the process unconsciously tightening the grip that she held on her laptop bag.

"How's he doing?" She quietly asked.

Buzz's mood instantly dropped, his own eyesight drifting off to the room behind him. "It's hard to say. I mean, he's out of any immediate danger, but…"

He broke away, his voice softening. "I just wish there was more they could do for him. I hate hearing…knowing…"

Juliet titled her head, finding herself to be studying the man as he stared at the scuff marks on his shoes.

Since Shawn was admitted, she had seen everyone from Henry to the Chief herself carry a burden of regret at the single thought of what had happened on the roads that night. This was the first time she had seen Buzz weighed down by such a load of distress. She truly hated to think about what he had seen and heard over the last few days to make him feel the way he did.

As if suddenly remembering where he was, Buzz looked up with a diffident smile. "Sorry. I…really shouldn't be discussing this with you."

"Oh! Of course. Of...course. Uhm, I'm just going to…" Juliet trailed off, making her way to the door, but stopping short of twisting the handle open.

Buzz nodded his head. "Tell him I say hi, would you?"

She smiled, reassuring him that it went without saying as much would be done. And as he went back to re-reading the magazine in his lap, she once again fought to calm her nerves.

With a sharp intake of air, Juliet gripped the handle with all her might and opened the door.

* * *

><p>It was on his fifth cup of coffee that Carlton realized the morning had long since come and gone, telephone calls having been exchanged numerous times between him, his partner, and 411; and social security numbers studied to the very last digit. Between himself, Guster and the eldest Spencer, the latter of which he still regretted letting even stay at the station, there wasn't a single detail that went untouched on their suspects.<p>

It was his seventh cup that made him begin to doubt any of their findings.

"Are you sure, O'Hara?" Carlton fought off a sigh, his phone held tightly to his ear. He fought to ignore Henry, the man sitting opposite side of him and drumming obnoxiously on the wooden frame of his desk.

"Okay…" He said, "Get me something on Saint and give me a call back."

With a click of a button he ended the phone call, and practically tossed the cell phone across the desk with visible frustration.

"Well?" Henry asked, his fingers having stopped tapping and his eyes glancing up from the hoard of papers below him.

"Nothing." Carlton grumbled. "She's clean; living in Washington with her sister and two children. There's no way it was Griffin."

"Or McKean, Anderson or Henderson." Henry added, removing his reading glasses with a breath of his own aggravation. He held off the temptation to knock the files and documents on the ground and into a trash can; hell, at this point he just wanted to shred them into pieces. If he wasn't so damn tired, then he had no doubt that such a thing would've been done days ago.

But he was – they both were. Exhaustion sank deep down into their very bones, the past four days of stress and turmoil bringing them to their very breaking point. If it weren't for years of experience behind his belt, there'd be no way Henry could even think coherently at this point.

Still, he was tired. So tired, that he had no energy in him to care about the negative answer that he got from Lassiter. Their hands were slowly becoming empty of possibilities, hour by hour taking a suspect off their list and leaving them with nothing.

"So our only leads are Saint and-"

"And no one." Carlton cut in. "It's either John Saint, or I'm closing the case." His voice was strict, his words never once wavering.

Henry didn't seem intimidated.

"With all due respect, _Detective_," His blood-shot eyes looked up, "If you wanted to close this case, you would've done so days ago."

Carlton didn't respond; at least not right away. Instead, he drew his attention back to his computer, tapping aimlessly on the keyboard while avoiding eye contact with Henry. If he was lucky, the other man would just think he was biting his tongue to keep back a verbal lashing. It surely wouldn't be the first time in the past three hours he had been forced to step back and shut his mouth when talking with the retired officer.

Truth was he didn't like when people tried to get inside his head, and he _certainly _didn't like when Spencer's tried to do as much. His problems were _his _problems, and it was as simple as that.

In his rightful opinion, there was no problem, so people needed to stop treating him like he was something to be fixed.

The silence grew too heavy for his liking. Carlton spoke up, "It's not Garber."

The other man crossed his arms. "And yet you agree with my hunch."

"But that's it, Spencer. It's a _hunch. _I can't make someone a suspect just because you have a hunch. It's either Saint, or no one."

It was Henry's turn to stay quiet, though his arms remained crossed and his eyes even stayed locked on Lassiter. There was no doubt that Carlton was right, and they both knew that full well.

It was a conversation they had not long ago; one that Henry thought wouldn't be brought up again after the way the head detective reacted the last time. He was adamant that their suspects remain persons of interest with actual reason to be mistrusted.

That didn't stop his hunch though, and Henry wouldn't admit Carlton was right, because that brought on an itch he couldn't relieve.

"And you're right." Carlton practically mumbled, interrupting Henry's train of thought. "I should've closed this case days ago."

He glanced sideways at the man. "I never said you should close it. I said if you wanted to, you would've."

Hands ran through his sandy and untamed hair, "And I _wanted_ to. So I should've." Carlton fought, the weariness in his voice hiding his true defeat.

When he looked up at Henry, still across from him at the desk and fiddling with papers, he expected to be greeted with a cold shoulder. He surely didn't expect him to respond or even acknowledge his statement, having much more on his plate to worry about than a possible write up the head detective might receive for pushing forward with a shelved case.

Instead, he found the man leaned back in his chairs, eyes boring into his with an expression that could've given him the chills had he not learned to stare fear straight in the eye.

"Lassiter, we both know why you're keeping this case open." Henry merely stated, "Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if Karen had figured it out by now. Don't think you're fooling me."

Carlton didn't need his words to figure that out. Just by looking at Henry did he realize that his 'non-existent problem' could clearly be seen. There was something about Spencer's being able to read people…they were freaks, if you asked him.

"Remember, I ignored that call too." Henry said, his words soft and slightly under his breath as he returned his reading glasses to his eyes.

Something about that sent off a switch with Lassiter, his jaw dropping with disbelief and anger he hadn't felt in days rushing through his veins.

"I am _not _devoting my time to this case just because your son pestered me on the phone for the millionth time. This has nothing to do with-"

Honestly, he wondered why he even bothered. Henry simply looked back up, his expression once again sending sandpaper across his bones. He never thought a lack of sound could irritate him more than when the man wouldn't shut up.

Carlton pointed a finger, his face rigid. "I'm not doing this for him. I have nothing to be sorry for."

He was tired. If it was any other time, Henry would've had it out with the man, letting him know exactly what he thought and why. But there was only one thing he cared about at this point, and it was all he could do to devote his energy to that.

"Sure, Lassiter. If that's what helps you sleep at night."

Henry wasn't looking at him anymore, and yet it felt like his eyes were glued on him. Long after his accusing finger fell to the desk and Carlton was still staring at the father, who worked with a burden of a thousand weights on his shoulders.

His non-existent problem suddenly became a very real problem, and though it was obvious, he came to realize it wasn't just his problem either.

It was no wonder Henry wanted to spend any waking moment he could at the hospital. He wasn't just sleep-deprived because he was worried about his son's health and life; he wanted to be there for the very moment he had a chance to apologize.

'_Apologize…' _Carlton thought, _'How do you apologize for letting someone nearly die?'_

He didn't want to say sorry. He didn't want to think about how if he had listened to Spencer, this wouldn't be happening. He didn't want to think about the heart failure, emergency surgery, blood transfusions, catheter, respiratory, feeding tube -

It was his fault. And he didn't want to think about it.

"How were we supposed to know?" Carlton carefully asked.

Henry never looked up.

"We weren't." He rasped. "But does it matter?"

Ringing telephones, shuffling shoes, mindless chatter and their own breathing filled the void of conversation.

Carlton never went back to work on his computer, though there wasn't much point in the task anyways, not until O'Hara called him back. With his mind distracted, he stared idly at the stale coffee below him.

Henry's deep sigh cut through his thoughts. "I still think that-"

"Henry."

Her voice breaking through his sentence, both men shot their heads to where Chief Vick stood.

Carlton was just about to speak when she beat him to the punch.

"My office, please."

Henry grudgingly rose from his chair and followed her to the office across the room, his hand rubbing his lower back with pain on the trek there.

Carlton watched with amazement and a small amount of shock. He was amazed that the man followed her without a single protest, noting that it _was _possible for a Spencer to behave in the presence of authority and wondering what it took to repeat that scene with the younger Spencer.

He was shocked because the Chief had just pulled a retired detective into her office and left a perfectly good, currently on the payroll detective to sit uselessly at his desk. If it weren't for the glare she shot his way, Carlton would've easily gotten up and followed them both. Whatever words that were being thrown around behind closed doors obviously weren't for his ears.

And for the past three hours Carlton would've done anything to have Henry at least a mile away from him. So to suddenly want to be there in the office with that same man baffled him beyond words.

He shook his head clear of the thought. Where was Guster with his coffee?

* * *

><p>Juliet had set her things, including her laptop, on the mobile table in the corner of the room. She had cleaned up the coffee cups and discarded the barely touched cafeteria food, and once she had done the research on Susan Griffin as Carlton had requested, she organized the files on her computer until there was literately nothing left for her to do.<p>

She tried to stay busy, or at the very most distract herself from her current situation. But she hated the sound of the TV playing in the background, and with every key she hit on her laptop she found herself worried that she would cause distress to the obviously drugged-out and unconscious Shawn.

Inevitably she found herself in the very spot where she didn't want to be - sitting next to his bed, staring down his every feature.

It was day ja vu – the very smell of antiseptics reminding her of the last time she was here with Shawn. Back then, four words rang so painfully in her ears that she could barely take his statement without spacing out to when he had said them over the phone.

'_I love you, Abigail.'_

Having been shot, tied up in a garage, and given one phone call to make…to this day she still wondered if Shawn knew how painful it was to hear those words.

Of course he didn't, no one knew that she had given her heart to only one man and had it crushed at his disappearance to their relationship. But after all those years being independent, and all the time she spent snubbing his attempts…when she finally wanted to give it a try, she had been crushed again.

Juliet stared at him, his chest rising softly with the help of a nasal cannula barely making its way past the NG tube. The color to his skin had returned, but he still looked like a walking ghost. Even with the Blistex she insisted that Gus apply to his lips, they were still pale and cracked, and slightly parted open in his drug induced state. His hair was a whole other story she didn't want to touch…the nurses oblivious to the needed gel and styling that made Shawn Spencer…well, Shawn Spencer.

Leaning forward, she tussled a bit of his brown locks away from his forehead. Even having beat death in a one-on-one foot race, he still managed to look like his charming, perfect self. It amazed her.

She softly smiled. "Hey…Shawn."

Two hours ago, she stayed in the corner of the room with her laptop, refusing to let herself near the man in the bed. She used excuses – he was still at a slight risk of infection. She could wake him up and cause a whole mess of problems. She could trip on a wire and do who knows what. Now, here she was with her fingers tangle in his knotted and unwashed hair.

"I know that you're not awake or anything…right now. But, uh…just wanted you to know that…" She said, "That your dad is at the station working on your case. And he didn't want you alone, so…I'm here with you."

As if reminded of the situation, and that she was merely here as a watching eye, Juliet quickly removed her hand and brought it down into her lap. "Yeah." She sighed.

The clock ticked, the machines beeped, and her heel tapped anxiously on the tile floor.

She suddenly mumbled to herself, "I haven't heard back from Carlton in an hour…I hope things are going okay. He's probably causing a ruckus with Mr. Spencer."

Juliet didn't even realize she had said the words out loud, but nonetheless she found herself stuck on the thought. If anything had made her want to stay at the precinct, it was the thought of _those _two around each other for more than three hours. While a good man, and God bless his soul, it seemed Henry brought out the worst in Carlton that not even Shawn could manage.

Speaking of which…

"It's been _really _quiet around the station." Juliet murmured, eyes drifting up to where Shawn laid.

"Everyone misses you down there." She mentioned, "I think all of this kind of shows that…"

Pointing around to the horde of flowers and balloons, Juliet felt a weak smile tug at her lips.

"But, yeah. It hasn't been the same without you around, Shawn."

It was true, though probably an obvious statement. The positive life that Shawn brought to the station, even if only once a week, had clearly been something that hadn't gone unnoticed. There were gifts surrounding the windowsill from officers she barely even knew.

To know that so many people appreciated him, practically loved having him around and yet someone out there tried to kill him…

Suddenly overcome with the weight of a thousand pounds, Juliet found her head in the palms of her hands, fingertips massaging her aching temples.

She felt like crap.

Ever since the whole ordeal had begun, she had gotten little to no sleep on top of the tidal wave of never-ending emotions that kept on the edge of her seat. It was like trying to defuse a bomb – her nerves were shot. She still felt like she had when the doctor announced Shawn's expectations to…well, no other way to put it, to die.

Juliet looked up, forcing herself to remember that things had radically changed since that night. Shawn was alive. He was going to be okay. While nowhere near okay at this moment, his rising chest was proof that things were on the road to recovery.

And yet there were some things you could never recover from. The sight of Gus's hands trembling in fear as he collapsed into a waiting room chair from shock, Henry emerging from his son's room with wet and blood shot eyes, and Carlton hurling his gun across the shooting range room…they were sights she would never forget, and never mend from seeing.

Things like this? They weren't supposed to happen. Not to her…not to her best friend. And yet that was the very reason she had become a cop – serve and protect, prevent the worst from happening.

Frustration boiling in her veins, Juliet decided to throw caution to the wind.

"Argh, okay! Listen," She sat up straight in her chair. "I vowed to myself that I wouldn't just spew out everything that in some kind of sappy romantic movie gesture. I know if I say what I feel now, then I won't have the courage to say it when you can actually hear me, which is what I promise I'm going to do."

She paused briefly, if only to catch her breath.

"I mean, you have no idea how much is going through my head, Shawn. First we almost lost you, then I found out you and Abigail broke it off, and now there's an attempted murderer we have to pin down…" Her voice spoke low and soft, Juliet knowing that there was no way Shawn could even hear her if she shouted it across the roof tops. The steady drip of a newly placed morphine bag was evidence to that thought.

Fingers playing with the edge of his bed sheet, she continued. "And then there's your dad and Carlton. You have _no _idea how pissed I am at them. To just…_ignore _you like that, having just as easily done this to you as whoever hit you with their car in the first place. Why didn't you just call _me_?"

Juliet didn't realize how hard those words were to say until her sight went out of focus, water blurring her vision.

She looked up, suddenly angry, confused and sad at the same time. "Why didn't you call me, Shawn?"

The burning sensation of tears brought her back to reality. With her left pinky, she wiped the drops away from her eyelashes and took a deep, but shaky inhale.

"No. No, I promised myself I wouldn't do this. This isn't about me." She said. "It's just…with all this going on, I just feel caught in the middle of it all. Everyone feels guilty and I…"

Having a million words, thoughts and emotions she wanted to share just a minute ago, Juliet was surprised to suddenly find herself silent. She didn't know what to say.

Her shoulders heaved with a sigh. "I don't know."

It was probably the most honest thing she had said all week. She could tell you that all she wanted was to have prevented this from having, but it was nothing Gus hadn't shared with them all. Having found him alone and wounded in their office, they both wanted nothing more than to have received the phone calls two other men ignored.

She could tell you that she wanted normalcy, but it was nothing that Carlton hadn't already expressed. The desire to just return to how things were held strongly to them all. And she could easily tell you that she regretted not telling Shawn things he should have heard long ago, but something told her that Henry already had that emotion down pat.

So honestly, Juliet had no idea where she stood, expect in the midst of the mess that had been created.

Her fingers suddenly let go of the blanket, finding way to Shawn's hand before she had even realized it. She fought away the wires until she had his hand in hers.

She had felt nothing but fear, anxiety, dread, confusion and anger in the past week. As she held his hand, no tighter than she would hold the hand of a baby, the feeling of his cold, rough and dry skin suddenly relaxed every muscle in her body. In that moment, for just a split second, her eyes closed and Juliet remembered happiness.

Happiness that he brought her.

Happiness that she wanted to return to him.

"Shawn, I need you to know that…"

Her hoarse voice brought her back into the harsh reality where she sat, holding his hand, tangled in wires that pumped painkillers through his broken and injured body. Where she sat, confessing emotions she had already told him long before that night at the drive-thru movies.

She swallowed back the rising lump in her throat, suddenly hating herself for breaking another promise she had made.

'_Of course Shawn, what is it?"_

'_I need you to know that…I love you.'_

'_Shawn…I think that I-'_

'_Goodbye, Abigail.'_

Though this time she didn't fight the tears that fell from her eyes, Juliet quickly wiped them away as she quickly composed herself.

"We're going to find who did this to you." She recovered, having awkwardly remembered that her words ran off into thin air.

Feeling stupid that she still held his hand, as weak of a grasp as it was, Juliet sat back and let go of the grip she had on his fingers. She could've sworn for just one second that his hand squeezed hers as she pulled away…

But she easily chalked that up to her own delusions.

* * *

><p>"I'm telling you, it was The Abyss."<p>

Carlton groaned, rubbing the side of his temples with obvious frustration.

"Guster, for the last time, you're thinking of Leviathan. The Abyss had Michael Biehn; Leviathan had Peter Weller, which is who you're thinking of."

Gus looked up, his tired features showing a mixture of annoyance and confusion. "Who's Peter Weller?" He asked.

Carlton paused. Was he really having this discussion? He gave Guster more credit than Shawn, most of the time believing the man to be the sanity that held Spencer to earth…but having spent the past fifteen minutes debating 80's movie with him over the similarity of a criminal and an actor was ridiculous.

He shook it off, returning to his computer. "It doesn't matter. That's who you're thinking of."

As if he wasn't convinced, Gus returned to the mug shot in front of him. Though he had been studying the man for the past five minutes, practically boring a hole through the photo, he continued to stare.

"Looks like the guy from The Abyss to me."

It was perfect timing - Lassiter's patience had snapped the very moment Chief Vick and Henry returned to his desk. And thank god to, because between his exhaustion and frustration, Carlton had no doubt he would've thrown his coffee straight at Gus's face.

"Men," Vick spoke up, making her presence known. "Do we have anything?"

Carlton shook his head. "411 are struggling to find the location of a John Saint, so I have O'Hara looking in the database as we speak. She should be calling me back any minute with some information."

Obviously it wasn't what Karen wanted to hear. She held back a sigh, asking "Any other leads?"

"No, Chief-"

"Yes, Karen." Henry interrupted.

"Henry!" Carlton shouted.

Ignoring the retort, Henry turned to the Chief with full assurance. "Name is Ben Garber." He stated.

Before Karen could even question his lead, Gus shot up from his chair. "Ben? What!" He shouted, not bothering to pick up the discarded pen cup he had knocked over in his moment of shock.

He turned to Carlton, "What!"

Carlton merely shrugged.

Gus didn't stop there. "Wha-"

"Mr. Guster!" Karen cut in, her voice tired and desperate. "Please."

Gus blushed, "Sorry, Chief." He apologized, regaining his composure by straightening his purple button down shit and sitting back down in his chair.

He immediately turned his attention back to Henry. "Mr. Spencer, what on earth brought you to suspect Ben?"

"Excuse me," Karen said, "but could someone inform me who this man is?"

Carlton waved it off, "It doesn't matter." He said, his attention never shifting from his computer screen.

Gus was still focused on Henry. "Mr. Spencer, there is _no _way Ben did this. No possible way in hell!" He defended.

"You can't rule him out, Gus. Anyone is a possibility at this point and-"

"Not Ben. I'd be more suspicious of the Pope committing a murder than Ben taking part in this."

Karen had enough.

"Henry! Gus!" She barked, pinching the bridge of her nose to fight off an oncoming headache.

As if reading her thoughts, Gus decided to explain. "Ben came to Psych earlier this year in hopes that Shawn could find out if his wife was having an affair or not. It turns out she was…with multiple guys."

Karen sighed, "And…why does this cause suspicion?"

"I have noidea. Ben was _literately_ the nicest guy Shawn and I have ever met. He was…just…a ball of sunshine." Gus didn't seem to be making an impact on the Chief or Henry, though the latter was impossible to deal with once he had his mind set.

"Even after he paid us for the case, he insisted on taking Shawn and I to dinner. Golden Palace. Let us pick whatever we wanted off the menu." Gus informed them.

Carlton scoffed. "Shawn got the most expensive dish, didn't he?" He asked with eyes still glued on his computer.

"You know that's right." Gus replied. "But Chief…I have never met someone as carefree, kind and thoughtful as Ben. And he loved Shawn! There was no way he did this."

Through-out her career as both an officer and Chief of police, Karen had never experienced such a rollercoaster than this very moment. She had lost track of how many suspects they had on this case…and yet none seemed to add up.

It was hopeless. If the guy was smart, he had made it to Canada and was long gone by now.

She looked to the father standing next to her, knowing he held whatever answer she needed.

"Henry?" She asked.

"It doesn't add up." Henry answered, arms crossed. "The guy finds out his childhood sweetheart is cheating on him with five other men and he's all buddy-buddy with the guy who figures it out? Even if he wasn't upset with Shawn…he was too nice."

"Ben was just a nice guy." Gus retaliated. "He didn't get mad; he saw no reason to be angry. Good people exist…he's one of them."

Henry shook his head. "That's the thing, Gus. People get mad. People get angry. This guy was all smiles…it's not right."

Karen cut in, hearing all she wanted to hear. "Do you have anything to pin on him, Henry?"

A beat.

"Just…"

The background of phones ringing and shoes pattering on the ground filled the air. All eyes stared at Henry until finally; his head fell low to his chest.

"It's just a gut feeling." He answered.

Carlton stood up, hands planted firmly on his desk. "And we can't book someone on a gut feeling. We couldn't bring him in for questioning even if we wanted to."

"Why not?" Karen asked.

"His contact information is useless."

Eyes went from Carlton to Gus quicker than a speeding bullet. And Gus had felt their eyes staring deep into his soul long before all three heads had turned to look at him. He knew the question would be directed at him the moment Lassiter mentioned questioning.

So he shrugged.

"Shawn and Ben kept in touch for a month or so after the case ended, but his phone was suddenly disconnected. We figured he went under a new number. We…didn't really think it was all that odd. People drop everything for a fresh start all the time. Shawn did it himself when he was 17." Gus said, "It's not all that unusual."

Henry was stubborn. "I'll say it again – it doesn't. add. up." He held such assertion in his voice that it almost sent a chill through Karen. She truly wished this was a lead they could follow up on.

But just like the others…

"We will just have to wait until Shawn is able to explain things to us." Karen told them.

Gus didn't seem at peace with that decision. "It wasn't Ben, Chief Vick. There's no way."

"Gus, you need-"

"Shh!"

Henry, Gus and Karen all turned to Carlton, suddenly noting that the man stood with his cell phone planted firmly to his ear. They all thought the same thing – when did his phone ring? When did he even answer it? So caught up in their debate, they stood quiet as he spoke on the other line.

"Repeat that, O'Hara."

Henry suddenly felt his stomach drop. O'Hara was with his son…and name it another gut feeling, but he felt like this wasn't just a call to check in.

"What do you mean 'he's awake'?"

Gus whipped his head to Henry, though the elder Spencer never took his eyes off of Lassiter.

Lassiter groaned, "Awake as in rambling on about hats? Because I'm not wasting my time again questioning a drugged out Spe-"

His words stopped in mid-sentence, and only a few seconds later did his demeanor radically change.

"We'll be there in fifteen." He ended the phone call in a flash, stuffing his phone in his jacket pocket while snatching his car keys from his desk.

"We won't have to wait long to get our answer." Carlton said. "Spencer is awake and causing mayhem with the doctors."

Henry's eyebrow's shot up. "Mayhem?"

Carlton nodded his head, "Something about refusing medication until we're there."

Gus seemed overwhelmed with confusion, while Henry couldn't wrap his head around the information – that or he was fully expecting as much from his son and wondering what in God's name he needed to do now.

Though Carlton couldn't tell you what exactly they were thinking, he quickly noted that he was the only one walking towards the station doors.

"Let's go!" He hollered.


	13. Throw out the puzzle

**Chapter Thirteen:**

**Throw out the puzzle, there's too many missing pieces **

Henry and Gus stormed the halls of Cottage Hospital for what seemed to be the millionth time that week, this time with Lassiter hot on their tail. By now, most staff and nurses knew better than to try and stop them, but a few empty demands still echoed through their ears, words they easily ignored as they made their way up to the ICU.

Even if you didn't know that something was going on, the commotion that surrounded Shawn's hospital room was easy to spot. 20 feet away and Henry could hear the doctors and nurses loudly speaking over each other, commands he could only assume was directed to his son. That thought was proven to be correct when the closer he got, the clearer the voices became.

"Shawn, Shawn - _Shawn! _You need to _calm _down."

"Doctor, will you – Ack! Can you just get the restraints!"

"Shawn, look at me. Look at me, Shawn."

"I need-just-think-can't…"

"Shawn, clam down or I _will _restrain you. Where the hell is his father!"

Turning a corner, the three were greeted with the sight of Buzz McNab, who stood next to the open door of hospital room B1C, eyes straight ahead and his posture rigidly tense. And even as they came practically running to the end of the hallway, his eyes never once flickered from the wall straight ahead.

That scared Gus.

They didn't see Juliet until having darted forward into the room, where she stood off in a corner with her arms wrapped tightly around herself.

Henry pushed forward, practically knocking Gus over to make way in the room. "What the hell!"

Detective skills having switched on, there were three things that Lassiter and Henry had quickly taken note of not even three seconds into being inside the room.

One, the pink scrubbed nurse clearly didn't understand Shawn's dislike of pointy objects, because every time she went to stick him with a needle, he painfully elbowed her away in protest.

Two, the doctor had obviously lost his patience and was ready to throw in the towel.

And three, Juliet kept herself distant from the scene, trying to act detached from the situation but clearly failing. Though his eyes first found Shawn, Carlton managed to note on second glance that her mascara was heavily running.

Damn it. He hadn't seen O'Hara cry since this whole mess had begun, he didn't want to begin now.

The nurse in pink scrubs visibly ignored the newcomers. "Doctor, just give him the sedative!" She shouted, having once again made a move to clutch Shawn's bicep with a filled syringe held between her fingers.

Henry nearly knocked another nurse onto the floor to make his way closer to his son.

"What the hell is going on!" He shouted.

Sitting upright in the hospital bed, Shawn fought away from the nurse's grip with surprising force considering his current condition. And though his eyes were heavily glazed over, and his head hung low with little strength to keep it up, he pulled away from her grip as if her touch was acid.

"Think. Need...cam…tell…catchthink-STOP!"

"_Stop _touching him, nurse. It's obviously agitating hi-"

"Hello!" Henry's voice interrupted, "What the _hell _is going on!" He repeated.

Doctor Anderson turned to the father, making it known that he hadn't been oblivious to his presence, but at that moment he finally acknowledged it.

"Mr. Spencer, you need to tell your son that if he doesn't accept these painkillers, we _will _bypass medical proxy's decision and give them to him for his own safety." He explained.

This seemed to baffle Gus and Lassiter to the highest extreme.

"For the last time," Carlton started, "What the _hell _is going on!"

Doctor Anderson snapped his head to the two. "No - out. _Now._"

"Like hell I'm out!" Carlton shouted, raising his voice over the frantic nurse who still insisted on trying to stick a needle in Shawn's arm. He whipped out his badge, "SBPD, Head Detect-"

"Oh I get it, I know! I've seen that thing fifty times this week." Doctor Anderson lashed back, "This is _my _ICU. And I currently have an intractable patient on my hands that's putting himself at risk for opening his sutures wi-"

"Will you get away from him!" Gus's voice interrupted. The three looked over and found that the man had wiggled his way through the crowd and over to the hospital bed, pushing the nurse aside as gently as he could while still getting his point across. No one seemed heartbroken to see her finally give up and storm out of the room.

Gus gripped Shawn's shoulder, careful to avoid the wires and heart monitor pads. "Shawn, buddy, are you okay?"

Eyes out of focus and locked on the blanket below him, Shawn shakily shook his head.

"I can't-I-something-Gus?…car…think. Can't."

Doctor Anderson turned back to Henry. "We just did open surgery on this man not even five days ago. He has a fractured pelvis, half his spleen removed, he's very anemic and in obvious distress. I don't know _why _he's refusing pain medication, but he is. He _needs _to rest. He needs these painkillers."

Gus paid little attention to the doctor. "I…I don't understand, Shawn. What are you trying to say?"

The sight scared him. It was no wonder Juliet stood away, barely keeping herself together as the minutes went by. All the color seemed to have drained from his face as fought to stay upright, one hand wrapped loosely around his midsection, the other squeezing the bridge of his nose.

"No…no drugs. Nodrugsnodrugs." Shawn slurred.

His heart sank. "What?" Gus asked.

At that moment, the entire chaos that surrounded them seemed to make sense. It clicked in an instant - Henry suddenly understood.

"Of course," He said, pushing his way past the doctor. "He can't think. He's _never _done well on medication. It messes with his head and his eidet-"

Henry quickly caught himself, not needing Gus's stare of death to remember the presence of the two detectives in the room. Though his son's friend would still shoot him a look that could've killed innocent kittens, Henry back-tracked his words.

"It messes with his memory. He can't think." He recovered.

"Nodrugsnodrugs. Don't…don't want…" Shawn grabbed a weak handful of the scratchy blanket covering him, swallowing past the dryness in his throat with obvious discomfort.

Henry seemed to realize what was going on long before Gus, the latter seemingly in shock from seeing his friend in such a state. And it was really no surprise, even Lassiter himself a little taken aback at what they were seeing.

As he quickly moved over and took place at Shawn's bedside, Gus didn't seem to mind joining Juliet in the corner of the room.

"He's in a lot of pain, Gus." Juliet had whispered.

Gus shot his head over, amidst the chaos having almost forgotten that the detective was still in the room. He found himself caught between two sights; watching as Henry knelt down by the hospital bed to be eye-level with his son, and Juliet, where he wondered just what on earth had happened to make her such a mess since Shawn had woken up.

"Shawn, Shawn…" He gripped the back of Shawn's head, fingers gently digging into the brown locks. "Look at me, kid. Focus on me. Look at just me."

Carlton was an expert at reading people – it was his job. So he knew at that point the only thing keeping them near Shawn was the sudden display of affection that brought a speck of patience back to Doctor Anderson. The man hung his head low, looking at his watch with a set decision.

Their time was limited.

'_Come on, Spencer.' _Lassiter thought. _'You want to put those retired skills to use, now's the time.'_

It was hard to say what exactly made him do it, but the sudden contact his father made - more than just a touch on the shoulder, and Shawn's eyes slowly found their way to Henry's face. Though out of focus and glazed over, he seemed to recognize the voice with ease.

Henry fought a grin. Bingo.

"What do you remember, Shawn?"

"You have got to be-!" Doctor Anderson exasperatedly shouted. "No, not this again. You are _not _interrogating my patient again, Mr. Spencer!"

Henry never once looked away from Shawn, even when the outburst had caused Shawn's confused eyes to dart around the room like a buzzing bee. He was dead set on getting an answer, and Carlton seemed to catch onto that, having stepped forward to buy some time.

"Actually," He spoke up, "In his defense, it was me that interrogated Spencer last time." Carlton said.

Doctor Anderson shot Lassiter a look that could've burned flames through the detective's skull. Knowing there was no point in trying to remove the man from the room, and unquestionably being tired of seeing the man's badge, he turned around to face Gus.

"Mr. Guster." At his name being called, Gus looked over. "You're his medical proxy; you need to make the decision. Either we return him to a cycle of painkillers under your direction, or we remove you as his proxy and put him under full doctor's care for him being at risk of self-harm, _and _all four of you are removed from visitation rights."

Gus's jaw dropped. "What! I-I just…I mean-"

Juliet seemed to come back to reality at this.

"What?" She gasped. "You can't do that!"

"I most certainly can. If my patient is at risk of hurting himself, which at this very moment he _is_," Doctor Anderson pointed to the bed, "Then I will take the action needed to keep him from further harm."

Henry seemed unaware of the commotion surrounding them. He kept one hand on the back of his son's head, and lightly slapped away Shawn's wandering fingers that tugged at the NG tube in his nose.

"Come on Shawn. _Think. _Close your eyes and remember. What do you remember?"

When Shaw didn't do more than clutch at the blanket in his hand, Henry placed his own hand on the left side of his cheek.

"Close your eyes, Shawn. What do you remember?"

Henry fought to ignore how pale or cold Shawn's skin was. He tried to ignore the slight tremble in the back of Shawn's head as he clutched a fist of his son's hair. He simply focused on keeping Shawn focused.

Doctor Anderson tapped the heel of his shoe, and Carlton knew that their time was up. He turned to Gus, his stance mocking the same as the doctor. Both wordlessly asked the same thing – what was he going to do?

"Mr. Guster." Doctor Anderson said. "Make a decision – now."

Gus stuttered, looking back and forth between Henry and Shawn to Carlton and the doctor.

Why him? Shawn should've used his father as his proxy years ago. Though his friend claimed that the man would have both his kidneys donated to one of his prize fishes if he were ever to land up in the hospital, it was this very situation that Gus had feared. Shawn always said he trusted his life not with his father, but with him.

He watched as Henry caressed the back of Shawn's hair, affection he had almost never seen the father show. How many days had it been now, and Henry almost never left this very room? How many hours of sleep had been lost, and added years onto his health just from the stress of the situation alone?

This wasn't his decision. This wasn't right.

'_He's not giving me an option here, Shawn. I…I don't have any choice.'_

Henry gently forced Shawn's head to look at him, "Think, Shawn. Work through it. Remember." Henry whispered.

"You…I guess-" Gus's stumble fell short as Shawn's voice broke through the air.

"Blonde…" His eyebrows furrowed with concentration.

"Great." Carlton grumbled, "Information we already know. What next, Spencer? Don't tell me – you were hit with a 1999 Chevy Van?"

Doctor Anderson had lost his patience. "Mr. Guster. Now."

Shawn shook his head. "Blonde…not blonde."

At hearing this, all eyes seemed to turn to the hospital bed. Even Juliet found her attention to land on Shawn.

"What?" She barely choked out.

Henry frowned. "He _wasn't _blonde, Shawn? You said the man was blonde."

"Or was it a she? He or she, Spencer?"

"_Now, _Mr. Guster!"

"Wait, wait!" Henry demanded. "Just wait one damn minute!"

He turned back to Shawn, slightly terrified that the cold skin beneath his palm had become red hot. "Shawn, what do you mean 'not blonde?' What do you remember?"

There was silence as his eyelids squeezed shut, and notably the fist that clutched his blanket had a tighter grip. One moment went by where Henry, Lassiter and even Juliet could've sworn that their answer was finally going to come. After four days of painful waiting, and one failed attempted of questioning that resulted in mere disorganized drugged rambles, they were sure Shawn was finally going to be able to give them something for the case.

And then it happened. The yelp surprised even Henry, his hand flying off in fear that he might've done something to hurt him.

"Nahhck!" Shawn cried, "Ahh, dad!"

Doctor Anderson stepped forward. "That's it-"

"Do it."

Henry shot his head over to Gus so fast it could've given him whiplash. "What?"

Gus choked, "I'm sorry, Mr. Spencer."

Doctor Anderson didn't even bother saying another word to either four visitors, merely having pressed the call button for a nurse as he gathered the needed supplies near the bed.

"Wait – one minute. Just hold up one minute!" Henry shouted, turning back to Shawn as he gripped both sides of his face with his hands. "Come on, Shawn. Breathe through it. Close your eyes and remember. I know you can, son. Just _remember_."

Shawn clenched his teeth together so tightly that Henry was afraid the kid would lock his jaw, and he had almost spoken up to make it stop. Through the corner of his eye he saw the syringe plow deeply into Shawn's IV line though, and he remembered that in a matter of seconds it wouldn't matter.

"Give me something, Shawn. Think."

"Blonde…" Shawn grunted, "Not blonde."

Henry felt the drugs take effect before the needle had even finished deploying the medicated liquid into his system. The muscles in his cheeks relaxed beneath his palms, and slowly he felt Shawn's head tilt forward with exhaustion.

"Kid…" He rasped.

Two nurses emerged back into the room, and Henry heard the commotion as Lassiter, Juliet and Gus were all forced out into the hallway, but his eyes never once looked up to see the action take place. He watched as Shawn's eyelids blinked heavily, before he finally burnt out and settled on keeping them closed.

"Srrydad…" He slurred, body tipping forward just as Doctor Anderson and the nurses helped him lay back in the bed.

Lassiter didn't hide his annoyance as a small nurse shoved him to the exit. "Get your hands off of me! I get it. We're going, we're going!"

Henry could've fought the forces that yanked him away, but he knew it was pointless. He was guided out of the room, finding himself tripping over a few chords and wires as his eyes stayed locked on Shawn, tended to by his doctor as he was urged away.

"You have nothing to be sorry for, kid." Henry whispered.

The only reply was the hospital room's door slamming shut in his face.

"Well," Carlton sighed. "That was eventful."

"Mr. Spencer, I-I'm sorry." Gus stuttered, eyes wide as a silver dollars. "I didn't have a choice, I-"

Henry put his hand in the air. "Don't, Gus."

His shoulders slumped at the words, and his head bowed like a kicked puppy. Gus knew it was nothing personal. In fact, he was almost positive that Henry understood his predicament. But that didn't help ease the pain of the situation. Their only chance at an answer and he had ripped it away from them.

He knew Shawn, way more than Henry knew him. Gus knew that if they had just another minute, they would've gotten something more from him.

"What does that mean?" Juliet spoke up. "Blonde but not blonde? What was he trying to tell you, Mr. Spencer?"

Carlton scoffed. "The guy wasn't blonde. It's pretty self-explanatory."

"That means…the suspects…our leads…" Gus felt like a house had been dropped on him.

Henry barely nodded his head. "They're useless."

Silence burned their ears. The realization of the situation pumped through their skill just loud enough so that they could barely hear the nurses and doctors rustle of noise inside Shawn's hospital room, or the shuffle of staff passing them by.

Juliet had never felt so lost. "Where does that put us?" She asked, her voice soft and confused.

Carlton pondered the thought. Gus made it obvious that he had no idea. It was Henry that answered her question.

He sighed. "Back at the start."

* * *

><p>There was nothing they could do.<p>

It was the most hopeless feeling in the world. For Carlton, as a man of the force, it was the most irritating feeling in the world. You could combine every moment of annoyance he experienced with Shawn, put every moment he dealt with Henry on top of that, and it still wouldn't come close to the irritation he felt now.

This was his _job. _He had spent his life doing this thing every single day, and yet this time…he had failed.

The day had ended the same way it begun. The three had gathered around Lassiter's desk, though this time not a single word being uttered. There was no need; they all were thinking the same thing, and they dared not utter it out loud.

It was a pathetic sight. Any other time, Carlton would've been disgusted at himself for letting something so frivolous bother him this much. He almost expected the Chief to make a comment to them as she passed by on her way out of the station, and yet she seemed to share the same demeanor as them.

The look they exchanged held unspoken words – it was over. And she seemed to know before all of them.

She tipped her head ever so slightly, nodding in a way that told him she understood. Lassiter didn't know how she could even be so understanding. He was her head detective…he wasn't allowed to fail like this.

Gus sat to the floor near Carlton's feet, leaning against his wooden desk as he painfully tried to keep himself awake. The moment his head fell forward with droopy eyelids, he shot himself back with sudden force. Though it didn't prevent him from dozing off a couple times, his sleep would only last five minutes at most. The knots that twisted inside his stomach kept him from getting any rest. It was a sickness not even Pepto-Bismol could heal.

Juliet stopped trying to look busy hours ago. She discarded the random papers on her lap and simply sat still, her chair facing out the window of the station that held nothing but a dark parking lot. It was obvious that her thoughts were troubled; she tried to concentrate, but she couldn't focus on anything aside from the day's events.

When she arrived at the hospital this morning, she couldn't grasp the idea of why Buzz seemed so haunted. She left with a complete understanding of his heartache. So desperate to tell the information he knew, Shawn ignored her pleas to let the doctor's medicate him, and the doctor's ignored her begging once their patient pulled the medical proxy card on them.

He was smart, she give him that much. Even dazed and hung-over from the concoction of drugs, he knew that if he refused treatment, the doctor's would need permission from his proxy to continue forward. She had a good feeling it wasn't the first time Gus had to step into that role, but it crippled her to watch as he tortured himself, just to pass on a few words.

Juliet wondered what more they could've gotten if Gus hadn't made the decision he did…but it didn't matter; there was a lot she was wondering about at this point.

And Carlton? Since arriving back at the station, his eyes had been burning a hole into the manila folder that sat at the middle of his desk. The folder didn't belong to Guster or Henry…they all knew what it was. And they all refused to touch it.

He had failed.

He looked at Gus, knowing that the man felt helpless he couldn't do anything for his best friend, carrying the guilt of possibly making it worst by preventing them from getting further answers.

And he looked at O'Hara, who was lost in the confusion of being unable to protect the ones closest to her when she could easily protect a stranger off the street. He wondered the same thing she did – why didn't Spencer just call her?

Regardless of the questions, one thing remained. They had failed. As friends and as detectives, whether they all believed it to be true or not…Carlton knew they had failed.

He reached out to grab the folder.

"That's it?" Gus croaked, craning his neck to see Lassiter just inches from touching the papers.

"That's it. There's nothing else for us to do, Guster. We knew this was coming."

Gus didn't seem to settle with that answer. Other cases be damned, he refused to give up. He couldn't remember one time when Shawn had given up on him…how was he supposed to do that in return?

"It's wrong." His voice hoarse, he painfully stood from the floor. "It just feels…wrong."

"It feels _very _wrong." Juliet spoke. "But Carlton's right. What else are we supposed to do?"

"_Something!_ That guy is still out there. I feel it, you feel it-"

"And who are we supposed to look for, Guster? A man who drives a vehicle that hasn't been spotted by any law enforcements, and – oh, the kicker, doesn't have blonde hair?" Carlton blurted. "It's past tense. There's nothing we can do."

Gus grabbed a nearby chair, any responds falling short as his bottom hit the cushion to the seat. He knew they were right, he understood it completely…and yet it didn't feel right. It felt wrong. On so many levels did it feel wrong.

He whispered, "He's not safe."

A beat.

"No…no, he's not." Carlton's voice was barely above a mumble. "But he's in the hospital, he'll be fine there."

It was Gus's turn to hold a pause, his mind running through that statement as if he was analyzing every word.

"You sure about that?"

Carlton never replied this time. That alone was enough of an answer for Gus.

Familiar footsteps came walking near their bubble of misery, though it was Juliet who first noticed the presence that joined them.

"Mr. Spencer," She looked up, "You're back. Is that bad?"

Henry let out a sigh so loud it seemed to break the atmosphere of silence that had long since been held over the trio.

"They still won't let me see him. Shawn's throwing a temper tantrum over these painkillers, so they finally switched him to some heavy-duty muscle relaxants." Henry replied, his hand rubbing at the back of his neck with obvious soreness.

Carlton looked up, baffled. "That going to do the trick?"

"Ha. No." Henry practically sneered. "Hence why I'm here. Kid's thrashing around like a dying seal, his doctor is pissed they had to resort to that."

Gus seemed confused, "But…that's not your fault." He stated the obvious.

"No, it's not." The words that Henry spoke didn't seem to hold the aggression that they should. "But pushing the questions seemed to be the straw that broke the camel's back. In a sense, I caused this. To his doctor, I definitely caused it. He doesn't want me near the hospital until tomorrow morning."

"Ahh, kicked-out. Join the club." Carlton muttered.

Henry seemed to be nothing short of pure exhaustion as he collapsed into the nearest chair. "I was wondering where you guys went. I kind of hoped you had gone home, Gus."

Gus merely shook his head.

"Go home, Gus."

"What?" His head shot up, tired eyes showing that he was unable to process the demand sent his way.

Henry repeated himself, "Go home, Gus. We both can't see him until tomorrow. I'm going home to try and get some _real _sleep, and you need to do the same."

Gus wanted to protest. Every fiber in his being screamed out to fight, and yet he couldn't think a straight line from his brain to his mouth. He stood, lips moving like a gasping fish.

Juliet seemed to know not only where he stood, but how he was feeling. She looked over her shoulder, eyes sharing the same exhaustion and emotion that ran through their minds.

"It's over, Gus." She merely whispered.

The words echoed through the station like the crickets chirping outside on the cool summer's night. Gus looked around, taking in every detail in a way that only Shawn would. What he was looking for, he didn't really know. Maybe a slimmer of perseverance in Carlton, or hope in Juliet, or even determination in Henry. He looked for anything that told him that there was still a chance…still a chance he didn't have to let down his best friend.

He saw nothing.

In fact, he had never seen Henry so hopeless before in his entire life. Any lead or hunch they had just hours before was thrown out the window.

There was no more investigation. No more suspects, and no more 'what now?'s.

It was really over.

His voice low and gruff, Henry unknowing repeated the same question asked just moments before. "So that's it?"

Carlton never looked him in the eye as he answered. He merely bent forward, finally grabbing the new case file on his desk.

"That's it."

The moment that the folder flipped open, Carlton found himself agreeing with Gus's sentiments.

It felt wrong.


	14. It's not over

**Chapter Fourteen:**

**It's not over until the crazy lunatic barges in with a gun **

There were very few days that Lassiter had thought about calling out from work.

In fact, the feeling was so rare that he could name the occasions off the top of his head.

There was when he and Victoria had separated, and that Monday he had laid in bed until finally mustering up the courage to enter the station. He truly thought he would have called out that morning, having no motivation whatsoever to face his place of work. If there was anything he remembered the most about that day, if was driving on the highway with the desire to pass by the station and keep driving until there was nowhere left to go. Then he remembered there was the day he received the phone call that his father had died. He arrived an hour and two minutes late, but nonetheless, he showed up.

Today, Carlton couldn't decipher what had made him want to call out.

He refused to admit it was because of Spencer.

Maybe it was the failure that he could smell radiating off his very skin, failure that an hour shower couldn't scrub away. Or maybe the fact that he laid in bed wide awake until his alarm clock went off that morning, his eyes never flickering from his ceiling tile through-out the entire night. All he could tell you was that suddenly, his perfect track record had become no concern to him as he fought off the desire to make one simple phone call.

He didn't. But the feeling dragged on with him through-out the morning and he knew full well that it would continue to weigh him down until tomorrow had come and gone. There was no use in fighting it.

"Long night?"

Standing at the admissions desk, Carlton barely glanced up from the mind-numbing paper work he had been filling out. He found the source of the voice to be random clerk number two, blonde hair matching her bubbly personality.

"Mhm." He mumbled in reply, slumping over the counter further as if it would hide him from the fellow staff.

The clerk persisted. "If you need, I'm sure I can find someone to get a cup of coffee for you, detective."

Eyes never looking up, Carlton pointed his pen to the mug next to him. "I'm good, thanks."

A few moments of silence returned before, and for reasons unknown to him, the oblivious girl opened her mouth again.

"You know you have a desk to fill this out at, right?"

"And _you _know," Carlton looked at her name badge. "Emily, that I may just feel like doing this here, in peace, without you bothering me? Did that pass by your empty cob-webbed space for a-"

Just before Lassiter could further insult her, and before the clerk could throw a stapler at him, the sound of high-heels scampering against the tiled floor and Juliet rushing by interrupted their conversation in the nick of time.

"Hi, yes, good morning, Carlton." Despite her words being directed at him, Juliet barely gave her partner a glance.

She looked at the clerk and signaled very obviously to keep her mouth shut. While the girl seemed offended at the motion, she dared not spend another second around the two detectives, a few huffs and sighs sounded as she went across the station.

Juliet gave him a small pat on the arm before heading in the other direction, and Carlton was left to himself at the admissions desk. He watched discreetly as she headed towards the entrance way of the department, shaking hands with a brunette-haired woman sitting on the bench nearby.

"I'm sorry to keep you waiting, Ms. Paton. Follow me, please." Juliet had said.

It was perfect timing, because just as the two made took a corner into the precinct, Carlton was able to watch as Henry Spencer appeared from the opposite side. He could barely muster up the annoyance at seeing the man, merely dropping his pen with exasperation.

"You better not be here for reasons I think you are, Henry."

"Don't get your panties in a bunch, Lassiter." Henry sighed, joining the detective at the admissions desk. "Gus is just here to pick up the laptops and files he left before we head back to the hospital."

"Mhm," Carlton mumbled again. "You guys going to be allowed back in?"

"Don't know." Henry shrugged, "Worth a shot."

Lassiter couldn't help and wonder just how much optimism the man held regarding the entire situation. After last night, it seemed his whole demeanor was nothing short of pure hopelessness, a complete 180 to how he appeared just the other morning.

He couldn't help but think, _'Did we fail that badly?' _

Returning to his paperwork, the detective found himself re-reading the same line until finally a voice broke through the silence.

"Didn't sleep last night?"

He snapped.

"You know what!" Carlton threw down his pen. "That's none of your business. In fact, I see no reason for you to even be bothering me right now, so why don't you just find little Guster and leave me alone?"

Henry didn't seem fazed. Frustration boiled in his veins that the outburst didn't even cause the man to blink, rather stand idly at the counter as if nothing had happened. If it was anyone else, they'd be running scared. He didn't understand, and just like the other day when the same event had occurred, it made him angry.

"Just admit it, Carlton." Henry said, his voice holding exhaustion not even Carlton could compete with. "It's eating you up. You need to admit it and stop letting it destroy you."

He didn't waver. "I don't know what you're talking about. Nothing is bothering me."

"You're not fooling anyone."

"I have no one to fool."

No words seemed to follow.

His eyes sneaked a peak from the papers in front of him to where Henry stood off to the side. Arms crossed and eyes straight ahead, he had a look to him that screamed disbelief. Frustration wasn't a strong enough word at this point – he was full of pure infuriation.

"Besides," Carlton scoffed, "I have nothing to be bothered about. Do you know how many times your man-child son has prank called me at 1 am? _Plenty._ Plenty of times. Last week it was take-out orders from Long Won, before that it was return confirmations from Stoner's Pot Palace. One time he tried to sell me mattresses from a company called Forty Winks - my reasoning for ignoring his phone call was nothing but just."

The reply he got was unexpected.

"You don't think I feel the same way?" Henry had asked.

Carlton paused. For the first time that morning, he found himself at a loss for words.

He may have been tired, but he knew when he was acting irrational. It was just that most of the time; O'Hara was there to slap him back into coherence. Had he really become nothing but excuses? Was that why he couldn't muster up a good enough reason to call out from work?

Staring at Henry, he slowly began realize something. As much as he truly wanted to say this wasn't about the younger and more annoying Spencer, it didn't stop everything from coming back to that one damn phone call. He could say it until his lips went blue…but hanging up his cell that night created the problems they were dealing with now.

He could continue to deny it, but he didn't like the idea of where that put him.

"I'll…" Carlton let out a heavy sigh, choking on the words like they were cotton. "I'll get him something. A card or…what does he-"

He looked over to find Henry staring at his wrist watch.

"I'm sorry, am I taking up your time!"

Once again, Henry barely seemed fazed by the outburst. "It's been over fifteen minutes and Gus still isn't back."

Slightly embarrassed, Carlton took his anger down a notch. He had to agree, that didn't sound right.

Discarding his paper work, he asked, "He's just here for the laptop and files, right?"

Henry nodded.

"Hm…" Carlton thought aloud. "Maybe O'Hara had moved them. Let's go."

The two quickly made their way into the precinct, though they didn't have to go far once they had found Gus standing to the side, staring off like a zombie. Henry immediately saw that both laptops and manila folders were under his arms.

"Gus," Henry started, "You've got everything, let's go."

Carlton stepped forward, "What are you looking at, Guster?"

Gus barely blinked.

"That lady." He said, pointing with his eyes to the direction that he spoke of.

It took them a minute, but both Henry and Carlton caught onto what had stolen Gus's attention. Standing by her desk was Juliet and the same brown-haired woman that Carlton had seen sitting on the bench earlier.

Carlton didn't understand what he was getting at. "What about her?"

There was a beat as Gus fought to find the reply needed to answer Lassiter's question.

"I don't know." He eventually said.

Carlton practically threw his hands in the air; the week's frustration finally reaching its end point.

"Oh, well, that makes total sense, Guster." The detective snapped, his words dripping with the same sarcasm he'd only use when Spencer did something idiotic or outrageous. In fact, just using the tone in his voice left a bad taste in his mouth.

Gus didn't seem to mind, instead he kept looking forward. "She looks familiar."

"Gus, did you sleep last night?" Henry asked.

"No, but-"

Carlton decided that he didn't have the time for whatever games the two had going on.

"Okay, I've seen more of you two in the past week than I care to admit." He turned to Henry, "So, wish Spencer the best, I'll be going now."

Henry had barely given Lassiter a side-ways glance, though he noted that the detective had barely taken a step away from them despite his departing words.

"Come on, Gus, we need to get going before traffic starts up." Henry insisted, grabbing the sleeve to Gus's jacket.

"I just…"

Carlton, who appeared to be frozen in his footsteps, shot his head towards the two.

"Shh!" He hissed.

Across the room, the detective listened carefully and closely, paying attention to only one out of fifty voices in the station.

"It was a silver truck. Uhm, a Ford or something. I don't know - I'm not good with cars. But it's him; I _know _it is detective."

His ears had located the sound, and now his eyes had found the source. He turned to his partner and the woman she stood with, the same woman that Guster seemed so fixated on just moments before.

Juliet gently held her arm, guiding her to the nearest chair. "Okay, okay, just calm down Ms. Paton. Do you have anything…?"

Carlton heard all he needed to hear. He couldn't have acted faster if he tried, turning back to Henry and Gus with urgency.

"Guster!" He nearly shouted.

Startled, both men stopped in their tracks near the end way of the precinct.

He signaled them back over. "Let me see those files."

"Huh?"

Carlton rolled his eyes. "Let me see them!"

Though confused, Gus adhered to the request, pulling the folders out from underneath his arm and handing them over to Lassiter.

Slightly impatient, but curious nonetheless, Henry dared to ask, "What are you looking for, Lassiter?"

It wasn't completely unexpected when the detective failed to answer the question directed his way. Rather, he hastily spread the folders across the nearest desk, tossing aside whatever didn't please him and whatever got in his way.

"Wait, _crap_." He slammed his hands on the desk. "Guster – Ben Garber. What was his wife's name?"

Gus couldn't have been more confused if you put a purple elephant in the room and gave him blue ballerina shoes to dance with.

He had to think for a moment, stuttering over his words. "Uhm, uh…Chelle. Why?"

Henry raised an eyebrow. "Lassiter?" He persisted.

Carlton pointed behind him.

"Is that her?" He asked.

While Henry stood trying to figure out Lassiter's thought process, Gus found himself staring back at Juliet and the brunette haired woman at the desk, the same sight he had been studying before, but this time with a new point of view.

Suddenly, his eyes widened to the point where he thought they might bulged out.

"Oh my god. I think it is." He wheezed. "I mean, it could be. S-she had red hair when I met her…but that looks like-"

Carlton didn't wait for another word. "O'Hara, over here!" He shouted.

Juliet, after excusing herself from the company, quirkily made her way across the room with her frustrating clearly showing. The heels on her shoes slammed against the tile with force that screamed 'O'Hara anger.'

"Carlton, I am in the middle of-"

"What's her name?"

Juliet blinked, startled by her partner's demand. "Michelle Paton. Why?"

"What's her maiden name?" Carlton questioned.

"I don't know! She's just here for a restraining order!" Juliet hissed. "Carlton, what-"

The detective was out of her line of sight before she could utter another word, suddenly jogging down the end of the station before herself, Gus and Henry could even think about chasing after him.

Approaching the woman, Carlton gently asked, "Ma'am, I'm sorry to interrupt, but may I ask what your maiden name is?"

The brown-haired woman, Michelle, found herself looking between the sudden appearance of Carlton and Juliet, the latter having made her way back as quirkily as possibly.

"Uhm…" Startled, she was speechless. She looked to Juliet, who seemed unsure of why the question was being asked, but nonetheless had decided to precede forward with it.

"If you could, Michelle…" Juliet silently prayed that her partner's actions weren't about to bite them in the butt.

"It's…its Garber. What does that have to do with any of this though?"

Henry could've had a stroke right then and there, and there were only a handful of times he had experienced that kind of feeling. While Gus's eyes had gone wide at the sight of Michelle, the father's current expression put cartoon characters to shame.

Even Juliet found herself taken aback at the sudden realization. Only Carlton held composure, continuing forward with his questions.

"You were talking about a silver Ford truck, yes?" He asked.

"Uhm…yes. Uh…" Unsure of what was going on, Michelle turned to Juliet.

As of sensing the hesitation, Juliet stepped forward.

"Michelle, if you could tell Detective Lassiter what you've told me, it'll help us greatly in filing your case and tracking down your ex-husband."

"Ben?" Gus abruptly choked out.

"You knew Benjamin?" Michelle turned to the salesman, "Wait…I know you! Chesterfield McMillan, right?"

Carlton interrupted the two. "Hey, hey – stay on track here."

Michelle, though still looking at Gus as if he had grown two heads, slowly found herself back on the question that had been asked numerous times.

"My ex-husband…he's been stalking me for the past two weeks. I'm trying to get a restraining order against him because his behavior is…absolutely crazy."

"How so?" The voice came from Henry.

"He's arrived at my door with a sledgehammer; lurking in my bushes, he's been following me in the silver truck – at one point this week he tried to run me off the road. I know it's him because it's his friend's truck, and it's hard to miss. I swear I'm seeing him ever-"

"Wait, wait." Henry cut in. "What does the truck look like?"

Michelle titled her head to the side, slightly confused. "It's…bright silver…and has a large dent in the left side."

Years of police and detective work suddenly came rushing back through his brain as Henry assembled the clues, his memory being put to use in only ways he saw able in his son.

"_So what do you think, Henry?"_

"_I…" He let out a heavy sigh, placing the phone back on the desk. "I don't think it's our place to do anything."_

_Karen leaned back in her chair, almost pondering the thought. "Hm…"_

"_It's not our place, Karen." His voice thick and strained, Henry repeated his words._

"_I know. And a part of me agrees. But now that we have this information…"_

"_No. No, __you__ have this information." Henry retorted, turning his back on the Chief as he faced out the office window. "I only know because you've showed me - I shouldn't know a thing. Technically, neither should you."_

"_Exactly. We both shouldn't know, but we do. You know me, Henry," Karen stood up, hands planted firmly on her desk. "You know I don't meddle in people's business. But this text message wasn't meant for me. The person it was meant for should know about it."_

_Henry groaned, fighting off the urge to smash something and fall asleep at the same time. His eyes stayed locked on the view outside the window, and yet nothing seemed to distract his focus on the subject they spoke about._

_He was torn. A part of him agreed with Karen, and he truly saw her point of view. But at the same time…_

"_It's not our place." He muttered._

_Karen didn't seem content with that answer. She studied Henry for a moment, feeling guilty to having put yet another burden on his shoulders that weighed him down like no other force could. While she had gotten a nights rest, and surely didn't have to deal with the stress she did, it also meant she was thinking more coherently. And while she certainly didn't expect to change a Spencer's mind, she also couldn't let the matter go._

"_I don't think I can pretend I never saw this message, Henry."_

_Henry never responded. In fact, his tired eyes suddenly seemed focused on the view outside the window, the same view that moments before he only stared distantly at._

_For him, his eyes were suddenly fixated on the parking lot. Maybe it was lack of sleep, or maybe he was so uptight from the week's events, but he couldn't help and notice the placement of cars that he saw. He knew the station's parking lot off the back of his hand, and he knew that between Officer Stevenson and Officer Dobson's parking space usually sat a dark red Honda that Detective Robertson had been driving for over thirty years._

_In its place was a beaten up, silver ford truck. He had never seen a car stand out so visibly like this one – maybe it was the broken rearview mirror, or the dent in the side…but something seemed off. _

"_Henry?"_

_Call it a gut feeling, hell, call it intuition…but nothing in his life had ever seem so out of place before._

_He turned around, shaking off the feeling like a wet dog. "I __can__ pretend. You'll have to as well."_

A female voice cut through the memory.

"I swear I'm seeing him everywhere. I really don't feel safe." Michelle spoke, her voice shaking with fear.

"Rearview mirror." Henry suddenly spoke. "The truck – does it have a broken rearview mirror?"

"…yes." Michelle hesitantly answered.

A moment of silence seemed to pass over as the information was given. They were all thinking the same thing, and they could tell that their thoughts were the same, slight glances being exchanged. Most of her details were adding up with a completely innocent suspect of theirs that they had pushed aside before actually giving it true consideration.

Still, the clues still didn't come together.

Juliet turned to her partner, who seemed just as frozen as Henry.

"Carlton, what are you thinking?"

He never answered.

From his point of view, there were no possibilities to muse over, no pieces to fit together, and no clues to consider. For him, Carlton could only nit-pick at the one memory that seemed to haunt him so vividly. He suddenly remembered the night with a new perspective.

"_You…what?"_

_Carlton fought to bow his head. "I hung up on him." _

_Juliet seemed at a loss for words. She simply stood, arms crossed and eyes boring a hole through her partner's head._

"_You're telling me…that Shawn called you after the hit and run…and you…hung up on him." It wasn't a question that she spoke. If Carlton thought her words back at McLean's had held all the venom she had in her, he was surely wrong. _

_He tone towards him was worse than a million poisonousness snake bites._

"_I didn't know what had happened, O'Hara. I thought he was pulling some idiotic prank of his."_

"_He asked you for a ride."_

"_Yes, and-"_

_Juliet quickly interrupted him. "And you left him, out in the rain, to walk to the Psych office."_

_There was no denying it. And considering Carlton didn't want to admit it, not if his own life depended on it, he kept his lips shut. He found himself unable took anywhere near or at his partner, eyes drifting off to the side and looking anywhere but the face that held nothing except pain and hurt._

_If she had been yelling, he could handle that. Yelling, anger, fighting – he could handle. But this..._

_He sighed, "I didn't-"_

"_Did you even try to call him back?"_

_Now that wasn't fair. Carlton shot his head over, accusing finger pointing to her face._

"_Hey! I'm not alone in this. Henry did the same damn thing, and-"_

_Suddenly, a blaring car horn from behind them startled Lassiter into spinning around, hand held tightly on his gun holster._

"_What the hell!" He shouted, his eyes scanning for the source of the sound. _

_The badly dimmed light posts above them illuminating the street barely gave him enough vision to make out a truck, parking lights on and engine roaring across the street._

_He yelled, "Knock it off!" _

"_Answer my question." Juliet insisted, unfazed by the distraction._

"_The guy's taillights are out…" Carlton muttered, never once turning back to his partner. "Pretty sure his rearview mirror is broken too."_

_Losing her patience, Juliet snapped. "Answer. My. Question."_

"_No, okay!" Carlton retorted. "No, I didn't try to call him back. I went back to sleep, okay!" _

_There was no reply. No shouting, no yelling, none of the things he could handle. Instead, Juliet stared. _

_He lost track of how long the silence between them had filled their space. He had decided that if he fixated his eyes on the beaten truck across the street, maybe he could distract himself from her burning stare._

_Finally, her voice broke through._

"_Take me back to the station."_

"I came here to the station in hopes that you guys could help me. Like I said, I'm just really afraid, and-"

Carlton shot his head up and towards Michelle. "Your husband – your ex husband – he has red hair like yourself, correct?"

"Y-Yes, but…" Michelle seemed overwhelmed, "he's been dying it different colors so I don't know it's him. In the bushes, I'll see greasy black hair…but I can tell. I know his face." She answered.

Henry beat Carlton to the punch with the next question.

"When he tried to run you off the road, do you know what color hair he had then?" Henry inquired.

Maybe they were expecting it, or maybe they had all the shock they could handle for the week, but when Michelle answered, only a beat followed.

"Blonde."

As if all in synch, the group thought the same thing. Flooding their minds was the text message they had studied from Shawn earlier that week, the same text message that had made no sense just one minute ago suddenly fell into place with the clues he had left behind.

"_Van following me not coincidence __blonde hair__ think attempt wasn't accident out to kill help."_

"_Give me something, Shawn. Think."_

"_Blonde…" Shawn grunted, "Not blonde." _

"Carlton…" Juliet could only whisper, her voice barely at enough strength to do that.

There was one moment, not even one second where the detective collected his thoughts and composure.

And then…

"Stevenson!" He shouted, almost as quickly turning back to Michelle. "Ms. Paton, listen to me carefully. Officer Stevenson is going to help you file the restraining order. Tell him everything you've told us, and do _not _leave this station until I come back. When I-"

Carlton fought to finish his sentence, but through the corner of his eyes he saw the elder Spencer rushing out of the station like his feet was on fire.

"Henry!" Carlton rushed to the exit doors, leaving Juliet and Gus to wrap things up with their victim as he chased after the father.

He shouted again, "Henry!"

This time, Henry spun around on his heels, an accusing finger pointing to his chest.

"Lassiter, don't you dare tell me to stay put when-"

Carlton didn't bother to hear the rest. "Come with me, we'll get there faster!"

The tension in Henry's shoulder's eased slightly at those words, watching as the detective shouted over his shoulder once more.

"O'Hara, get me keys to a patrol car – NOW."

* * *

><p>Juliet let the squad car door slam shut behind her. "Carlton, you've got to recap me on this. I don't understand how Ben Garber and a Ford Truck have any connections."<p>

"They may or may not." Carlton looked around, eyes preoccupied. "That's why we're here. If we can get something from Spencer…"

"I really don't think the doctors are going to want us questioning him again, Lassiter." Gus had said, himself and Henry exiting the police car together.

Henry immediately asked, "Do you see it?"

If Juliet wasn't confused before, she was now. "See what? Carlton!"

Though his feet felt anxious to run into the hospital, Carlton knew that if he didn't explain himself to his partner now, things would be a lot harder in the long run.

"F-150 Silver Ford Truck. Dented in the side, broken taillights."

"The rearview mirror is cracked too." Henry added.

Juliet was taken aback. "The same truck Michelle claims that her ex-husband has been driving?" She asked.

"That's the one." Carlton answered, eyes never once having stopped scanning the parking lot.

Juliet, Gus and Henry fought to keep up with his pace as he quirkily walked to the entrance doorways of the ER.

"Which means, if you think its Ben behind this…" Gus trailed off.

"He ditched the van as evidence, picked up a new vehicle and began to purse his ex-wife in an attempt to murder her like he attempted to kill Shawn." Juliet caught on, suddenly making sense of the situation.

"I don't think it's just Michelle he's been after." Henry spoke up.

"What do you mean? He went after Shawn already." Gus stated.

"Exactly." Henry answered. "And he failed."

Carlton spun around, taking in all of his surroundings. "We've been seeing him all week because he's been _around _all week. I never put the two and two together until there was a legit reason for it. We never felt Shawn was safe because he _isn't._"

Juliet shook her head, confusion radiating from her very core. While her partner was making more sense than Shawn usually did, it still didn't add up.

"But we have no proof, Carlton. If we-"

"Uh, guys…"

Suddenly, all four stopped at the sound of Gus's voice. They turned to him, finding that his finger was pointing off in their left direction.

"That wouldn't happen to be the truck we're talking about, is it?"

No one dared utter a word. The birds chirped in the air, but it was the only sound that followed Gus's statement.

Carlton wished that he could prove Guster wrong, just like he had always set out to do with Spencer week after week. But there was no denying the large dent, broken taillights and cracked rearview mirror of the silver truck.

For a moment, his heart had stopped.

And for Henry, he felt his stomach drop long before he took in the sight, the feeling so nauseating it didn't even compare with the moment Shawn had first been admitted to the ER. He remembered the moment that the doctor told him he didn't expect his son to make it through the night, and still that feeling didn't relate to the sickening fear that shot through his body.

Henry and Lassiter looked at each other for barely a second, probably half of a second – if even that much. That was all they needed before subconsciously, they both knew no words needed to be spoken, no actions needed to be done…

They both simply ran.

"Carlton!"

"Mr. Spencer!"

After nearly a week of pure chaos and confusion, everything had finally clicked. Never in his career as a detective did everything come together at once in such a random but sensible way. It was the most accelerating feeling for Lassiter; however, there was no victory to be won.

Not yet anyways.

They had to get to Shawn.

If he wasn't in danger, Lassiter was perfectly content with having wasted his time and causing madness on the roads and in the hospital. For once, he'd allow Spencer to ruin his day. Because he wasn't okay, and if he was in danger…

How many times they stormed through the halls of the ICU, they had forgotten. With fear and adrenaline racing through their bodies, not a single nurse disturbed them in their panicked rush.

"Carlton, wait up!" Juliet called from behind, her heels barely keeping pace.

There was no time.

Carlton and Henry nearly crushed into each other taking a corner, both men side by side as they took a full run through the halls. No words or looks were exchanged at the future bruises to be formed – there was no time.

As Henry threw the door open to room B1C, Lassiter was ready to draw his gun.

"Shawn, are you!-"

The room was empty.

Carlton barely gave himself time to breathe. "What the hell!"

Before Juliet and Gus had even caught up with the two, Henry turned to Lassiter with realization.

"Second floor!" He panted, out of breath. "Second floor! They called…me this…morning. They moved him…second…floor…to rec-"

Carlton didn't care to hear the rest; rather he nearly pushed Guster onto the floor as he ran back the way they had come.

Gus's voice shouted from behind, "Lassiter, take the damn elevator!"

"There's no time!" He called back, already rushing down the stairway.

O'Hara shouted from the background, "Mr. Spencer, what the hell!"

If it weren't for hearing these words, Carlton wouldn't have realized that Henry was still hot on his tail, moving just as fast as he was which slightly surprising considering his age. Yet he remembered it wasn't the first time they had been in this same situation, and once again he'd gladly chalk it up to steroids.

The two nearly toppled over each other for the millionth time in an attempt to get to their destination. It dawned on him that the elder Spencer wasn't just following him out of curiosity…they were both thinking the same thing. Never in the past week did he think that they had been on the same page all along. Yet, never did he think that a gut feeling, a simple intuition would lead him to this very moment.

A part of him screamed almost as loudly as his lungs screamed for him to catch his breath. He chose to ignore that part of him at this moment though, and so did Henry – obviously.

Something. Wasn't. Right.

They entered the second floor of the hospital, where Lassiter finally took a moment to pause.

"Where to, Spencer?" Carlton tried to shout, but his voice was dry and his breath coming in pants.

"I…" Henry bent over, hands on his knees. "I don't know. I don't think…they told…me."

"Damn it!" This outburst _did_ come as a shout.

Carlton stormed over to the nurse's desk, flashing his badge in a heartbeat. "Shawn Spencer. What room!"

The nurse paled, quickly turning to her computer and typing as fast as her hands would let her.

Barely a minute went by and Lassiter had already lost his patience.

"Now!"

"I'm working on it!" She retorted.

Suddenly, elevator doors chimed open and both Henry and Carlton could see Juliet and Gust come storming through.

"Carlton, you better damn well explain yourself-"

"Room H5B. Take a left down this hallway and – sir!"

Lassiter and Henry were long gone.

"Sir, you can't run – sir!"

Juliet groaned, "Don't even bother." She mumbled to the nurse, jogging down the hallway all while wondering why she didn't take her own advice.

The good news was that Carlton knew this end of the hospital well from when his ex-wife had her gallbladder removed. The bad news was, that little bit of information was useless. Once they were in close enough proximity, they could hear the sound of shouts and crashing objects echoing through the halls.

Carlton had his gun drawn before Henry had even kicked open – and he meant literately _kicked _open the door to hospital room H5B.

"SPBD – FREEZE!"

The sound of knuckles cracking against bone was the only reply he got, and even before his eyes took in the sight before them, Carlton didn't hesitate to fire a warning shot.

"Holy CRAP, Lassie!"

He shot his head over, gun still aimed at the dog pile of men on the floor. "Spencer!"

Shawn stood off in the corner, his back pressed tightly against the wall as he held onto his IV pole with one hand, and bedpan held above his head in the other. He merely blinked in responds.

"Take cover, idiot!" Lassiter shouted, turning back to the floor. "Garber, I said FREEZE DAMN IT!"

Shawn raised the bedpan higher. "What do you think I'm doing!"

Ignoring Shawn, the detective immediately charged into the room. His gun never flickered from line of fire as he grabbed the jacket of one man and pulled him off the other. Punches were still being tossed, but the crazy sap throwing them was only hitting thin air.

Even with the thick beard and badly bleached hair, Carlton didn't need ID to know it was their suspect.

"Ben Garber, you are under arrest for the attempted murder of Shawn Spencer and Michelle Paton."

"Get OFF ME, you PIG!"

"Hey – Omfh!"

Carlton gladly returned the thrust of elbow sent to his shoulder with a kick to the man's tailbone.

Henry, finally taking in the scene around him, locked eyes on Shawn with a startling gasp.

"Shawn…Shawn!"

Suddenly, he was tripping over wires, spilled IV bags and blankets as he scrambled to where Shawn stood. Both himself and Lassiter had barely noticed when Juliet and Gus raced into the room themselves.

"Carlton, what the hell!" Juliet exclaimed.

Meanwhile, Gus barely held back his breakfast. "Oh my God, Buzz!"

At this, all eyes turned to the floor. Carlton was baffled that he hadn't noticed it before - that the man who had been beaten on the ground was none other than Officer McNab, who was currently staining his blue jeans from the blood seeping through his nose and mouth.

It was no surprise he never noticed. The man was dressed in street clothes.

"I'md finde, I'md finde!" Buzz choked out.

"What the hell are you doing here, McNab!"

Another thrust from Garber had brought Carlton back to the moment, where he tried to slap on a pair of handcuffs to the man as painfully as he could.

"Knock it off, Garber! You have the right to remain silent, anything you say or do can-"

"Shut up, I know my rights!"

Though he couldn't keep the smile off his face, Shawn fought off a chuckle. "Dude, Buzz, you are…so not…fine. Whoa."

"Shawn, Shawn…come here, son. Come here."

Gus stood by the doorway, eyes tightly shut as he fought off the urge to run far away at the sight of Buzz's face covered in blood. Nonetheless, even with his stomach in turmoil, he held himself together.

"You okay, Shawn?" Gus tried to ask from afar.

Shawn smiled. "Yeah…buddy. Totally...Jason Statham."

"What!" Gus's high-pitched voice replied. "You are no Statham, Shawn. Liam Neeson, maybe, but-"

"Hey – hey. I've gotcha, Shawn."

Gus never found the strength to look the scene unfolding, but between the sounds of Henry's concern and Carlton's struggle with their suspect, he could easily put the pieces together. The conclusion didn't ease his panic.

Meanwhile, Juliet bent down to the floor, handing Buzz a ruffled bed sheet that he gladly accepted.

"Here, Buzz. Tilt your head forward to stop the bleeding." She told him. "I've called for the nurses, are you going to be okay until then?"

"Garber, KNOCK IT OFF!"

Before Buzz had the chance to reply, Juliet rushed up to help Carlton detain their suspect, who kicked wildly in the air with little to no self-control. With her help, they were both able to cuff his hands behind his back, a few unremorseful bruises given to the criminal in the process.

Suddenly, before they even had a chance to scoot over into a corner, a rush of nurses came piling into the room, demands being shouted over Gus's Lamaze breathing and Buzz's wet and hesitant coughs.

Carlton barely had even a second to review the situation. The reaction of shock still held clearly throughout the room, their minds unable to comprehend what had just happen.

Running around the room was Juliet, her shaking hands doing everything she could to help the nurses, Buzz and Henry – though the latter shooed her away in a heartbeat. Carlton almost wanted to point out that her heels had made tracks of blood from the previous brawl between Garber and McNab, but he dared not further the panic attack that Guster was so obviously having.

Then there was Spencer – the youngest of course, simply staring back at his father with a mixture of startle and amusement – mostly amusement – and his hand still griped the IV pole as if his life depended on it. Henry's face had paled with concern as he fought to get his son back into the hospital bed.

Buzz just stood there, nose and mouth pouring blood down his chin with a large, toothy grin on his face.


	15. Be Kind, Rewind

**Chapter Fifteen:  
>Be Kind, Rewind<strong>

"I…am in awe."

In the station's briefing room, Karen stood still as a statue at the large rectangle table before them. Surrounding her were Detective's Lassiter and O'Hara, Officer McNab, and Henry and Gus, all five sitting patiently and quietly in their seats.

She on the other hand, stood with her hands planted firmly on the table, examining the reports below her until every sentence written had been memorized in her mind. The longer she looked at the words, the more confusing things got. The harder she tried to put the pieces together, the more disorganized the puzzle became.

It made no sense.

"In my 19 years of police work…I have…" She let out a deep exhale, "_never _seen a case come together like this."

No one dared to utter a word in responds. She shot Lassiter a look, expecting her Head Detective to offer some words.

He merely pointed back at the files in front of her, as if saying _'it's all there, I got nothin' else'_

Turning to Henry, he simply shrugged.

And when she looked back down at the reports, she found nothing but random confusion.

Karen straightened her posture, finally asking, "Will someone care to explain what happened?"

Suddenly, faster than she could blink had the room exploded into a clutter of noise and words, all overlapping on each other.

"Chief, the suspect turned out to be-"

"I knew that Garber was a potential suspect but I had _no _idea-"

"I went in and the next thing I knew Shawn was-"

"The F-150 Silver Ford Truck turned out to be-"

"Karen, when I put the clues together-"

"Blood…so much blood…"

Vick fought the urge to cover her ears.

"STOP!"

Voices fell quiet almost as quickly as they had spoken up. The Chief took a deep breath of air, taking a moment to calm her reveres before filling the void of silence that had fallen onto the room.

"One at a time, _please._" Karen said, turning to Lassiter. "Detective?"

At hearing his name, Carlton's head shot up.

"Please, explain to me how Benjamin Garber became a suspect. The last I heard, he had been clear of any suspicion."

Maybe the exhaustion had fallen taken its toll, but Lassiter could only find himself shrugging at his boss.

"Spencer's the one that pinned Garber dirty. You'll have to ask him." Carlton replied, finger pointing three chairs down from where he and Henry sat apart.

Karen looked towards his direction, "Henry?"

He shrugged as well.

"It's like I told you, the guy's behavior was too erratic." Henry started, a tired hand running down his face. "Shawn _knew _that, his case report detailed those things more so than the other files. He wouldn't have mentioned little details like that unless there was a reason. It didn't add up."

She nodded her head slowly. "And his ex-wife…all that was a lucky coincidence?"

Juliet shot her hand in the air, gaining everyone's attention. "Actually, Chief, not so much. As it turns out, when Ben was watching Carlton and I at McLean's apartment the night of the incident, he caught on that the hit and run was being investigated. That's when he tried to kill Michelle like he had Shawn."

Catching on to what she was saying, Buzz vigorously nodded his head. "Whan shwe kalled ahe polease, Ohhcer Dobson awwrized an ahe szene-"

"Buzz, _Buzz _- dislocated jaw." Gus cut off the officer, unable to fight the eye roll that followed. "What part of that don't you understand?"

As if reminded of the damage done to his beaten and swollen face, Buzz gave a tiny smile to the man sitting next to him. Unable to do much else, he pointed his bandaged finger to a stack of reports in front of them.

Gus grabbed the papers from the Chief, his eyes scanning the words until he came across the paragraph that needed to be recited.

"When she called the police, Officer Dobson arrived on the scene. He said, since she had no tag numbers and there wasn't any proof of the attempt, there was nothing that could be done. She insisted that Garber was out to kill her, and he told her she would need to file a restraining order if she felt that strongly." Gus finished, setting the files back down.

Karen paused, letting the information sink in.

"So the timing…when she came in to file the protective order…?"

"Garber had been watching her for the past few days. When he saw her head to the station, he knew it was his chance to make an attempt on Spencer." Carlton had barely finished speaking with Henry spoke up next.

"Luckily for us, he didn't expect that Lassiter and I would remember the truck he'd been driving around. Once we heard Michelle's side of the story, and discovered that Garber had been dying his hair to mask his identity, the situation made sense."

Eyes still scanning the papers, Karen couldn't seem more lost if she had been thrown out in the wilderness blindfolded without shoes. Just twelve hours ago, the very case that sat on her briefing table had been closed with no possible suspects. Not long before that had the very man who committed the crime been declared innocent by default.

And all of these answers just so happened to be a coincidence of good timing? Nearly twenty years of police work…and she wasn't kidding, she hadn't seen anything like this.

Gus, who had been quiet through most of the conversation, seemed to understand what Karen was stuck on.

"Luck." He spoke up, his hoarse voice grabbing their attention. "It was pure luck, Chief. The timing…figuring it out just at the right moment…those two remembering the beaten up truck…it was pure luck."

No one seemed to dispute that statement. Even Lassiter, the man who declared that a reason needed to be behind everything, sat back in his chair with mild agreement to the sales man. After all, there was really no other way to put it.

"Whis bust bea how Shown ahways eels."

Carlton shot his head down the rows of chairs, "_What_!"

"He said," Juliet sighed, "This must be how Shawn always feels."

Henry shook his head, arms crossed over his chest. "Mhm…I don't think so. Not this time, anyways. Shawn knew the end result way before any of us. It was just a matter of getting the message across."

"I can only hope that Mr. Spencer-well, _Shawn_," Karen corrected herself, making sure not to confuse the elder Spencer in the room. "I hope that Shawn can clear up the cob webs left from what can't be answered here."

Ears burning with silence, Karen noted how strange it felt not to hear a retort thrown back in the air.

After days of arguing, fighting, disagreements and overall no solid ground to be found, to sense everyone in the room having agreed on the same thing left them with a uneasy but calm peace that couldn't be described. A glance or two was exchanged down the line of chairs, all five wondering if anything else had to be said. And yet, they all knew the same thing. While not completely, totally and utterly over…

It was finally over.

"Henry," Karen looked up, concern radiating her eyes. "How_ is_ Shawn? The last I heard…"

"He's fine." Henry cut in. "He's out of surgery; the doctors are watching him closely tonight for any more signs of bleeding. But he's fine."

Juliet, seated next to McNab, placed a hand on his knee with a smile. "What you did was _really_ amazing, Buzz."

Buzz merely gave a wave of his hand, a selfless grin that spoke _'nah, it was nothing.'_

Carlton wasn't so satisfied with that answer. "You _still _have yet to explain what the hell you were doing there this morning, McNab."

Before Buzz could attempt to open his locked jaw, the Chief quickly jumped in.

"Actually, on that note, you _all _have yet to explain to me in sensible detail what happened after Garber was put in cuffs."

Once again, no one seemed to have anything to reply with.

So, once again, Karen turned to her Head Detective.

"Lassiter?"

Carlton grudgingly sat forward in his seat. "I don't have much to add, Cheif. Like I said, I had to drag Garber out of the room before the whole incident with Spencer – both Spencer's – had even gone down. But…"

* * *

><p>"Garber, KNOCK IT OFF!"<p>

Carlton fought to keep both of Ben's feet planted to the ground, the grungy and foul-reeking man putting up a struggle as a pair of handcuffs made their way to his wrists. To say he was thankful when O'Hara joined him in the detainment would be an understatement.

"Kid, back to the bed. _Now._"

The detective barely caught a glance of the scene occurring just across from him, where in the corner of the hospital room Henry gripped his son's shoulder's like he was leading a blind man. His bare feet tripping over wires and IV bags, Spencer giggled – actually _giggled _as they made their way to the bed.

Shawn chuckled, "Whoa…tilt-a-whirl."

Having both wrists in handcuffs, Juliet dashed from helping Carlton control their suspect to keeping any more blood from spilling out of McNab, who was still seated on the floor and smiling like a baboon.

The mob of nurses that came rushing in seemed more attentive to the gushing blood that flew from the officer's nostrils than the actual _patient _in the room. If it were any other time, and if he didn't have a crazy lunatic in his hands, Lassiter would've expressed his discontent to that, and he would've expressed it with a rainbow of colors.

"Yes, yes, tilt-a-whirl." Henry mumbled, "Shawn, bed. _Now._"

Just as Carlton was about to ask if everything was alright, or some sort of mixture of those words, a thrash of 230 pounds crashed into him and sent him slamming into the wall.

He had lost his patience.

"ENOUGH, Garber!"

Nearly a week of exhaustion, frustration, hopelessness, and a sickening guilt that he only recently came to terms with had boiled down to this very moment. With all his might, Carlton threw Garber not only out of the room, but down the hallway that led outside. He felt no remorse when the man's knees hit the hospital tile with a harsh crack.

"_You,_" Carlton hissed, "Are under arrest for the attempted murders of Shawn Spencer and Michelle Paton. Anything you say or do can and will be held against you in a court of law."

He bent down, grabbing Ben by the dirt-covered jacket and throwing him back on his feet. "You have the right to speak to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you." Carlton grabbed his shoulders and spun the man around, facing him eye-to-eye.

"Do. you. understand?"

The pools of green that stared back into his sent a chill down his spine. Not out of regret, and surely not out of fear. No, as Carlton stared straight into Garber's eyes, he saw only one pure essence boring straight back through him.

Pure crazy.

Ben scoffed. "You ain't got nothin' on me."

"Are you RETARDED!" Lassiter snapped. "You tried to _kill _two people! If you think that you're getting away with that, you are off your rocker, Garber!"

His eyes never flickered. "Prove it."

Carlton had enough. With his hands gripping the chain of the handcuffs, he spun Ben around in the direction of Shawn's hospital room.

"_There!_" He shouted. "That, right there. That man in that damn room. Is that enough proof for you! That you crashed into him going over 70 miles per hour, threw him into a light pole, and let him bleed out for over five hours!"

With the horde of nurses running around inside the room like chickens with their heads cut off, you could barely catch a glimpse of either Spencer, though the occasional truffle of brown hair from the youngest could be seen on occasion.

Nonetheless, whatever he was looking at seemed to make no impression on Ben. You could show him a dancing cow and he'd have the same expression. It was as if he was staring straight through space.

"I want to see my Chelle."

He could barely keep the laugh from emitting through his throat.

"You…you are legitimately crazy." Carlton shook his head, grabbing Garber's wrists and leading him down the hallway. "You're not going to make this interrogation easy, are you?"

Ben weakly fought against Lassiter's hands. "I want to see my Chelle!"

"Will you-!"

"_Code Blue, Room H5B. Code Blue, Room H5B."_

Halfway down the recovery unit, Carlton found himself back-tracking his steps until he was able to peek his sight to the corner of the hallway, dragging Garber with him the whole way. A gray-haired doctor came rushing to the room, stethoscope and white jacket swinging in the air as he rushed into the same room where the code was called.

"Get him out of here, now!"

"Get a surgery room prepped, asap!"

"Page Doctor Briggs, let him know we're on our way!"

Spencer's room.

"I want to see my Chelle!"

Carlton was shocked back to reality, where he threw Garber away from the sight almost as quickly as he threw himself away from it.

Walking down the hallway, he grumbled, "You're about to experience your worst nightmare, Garber."

* * *

><p>"Damn, Lassie!" Gus whistled. "You went all John McLane on his ass."<p>

Fingers rubbing at his left temple, Carlton held back a groan. "Guster, you realize there are moments where you're worse than your counterpart?"

"Awually, I hawe to awgree with hem. Tottawy Die Hawd."

Carlton shot forward in his chair, infuriation running through his veins. "McNab, will you _stop talking!_"

There was a pause in the room as everyone, the Chief included, tried to comprehend Lassiter's outburst.

Before The Chief or even Juliet could even consider punishing him for the tantrum, a Styrofoam cup was shoved in his face from two chairs down his way.

"Carlton," Henry tiredly said, "You need this more than I do."

Karen blinked, taking a moment before shaking off the incident that had just occurred. As she shuffled through the papers below her, she cleared her throat hesitantly.

"Okay…gentlemen…" She started, "Detective Lassiter? Care to share your interrogation report?"

Carlton took one more sip of the stale and slightly backwashed coffee before setting it down on the table. "Yeah, he's crazy."

Gus huffed, "No duh."

"No, he's crazy." Lassiter repeated. "He's had bi-polar disorder and a lingering social anxiety disorder that developed into severe schizophrenia after he discovered his wife was cheating on him. He was a ticking time bomb ready to explode; currently occupying a nice white room as we speak."

This seemed to go over Gus's head.

"What?" He managed to choke out.

Ben? The same Ben that they had brunch with, shared stories with, laughed at the same stupid jokes with? If his world hadn't already been turned upside down, this surely would've done the trick. Pinning Ben as a lunatic was like pinning Juliet as a prostitute – though he'd never utter that analogy out loud.

He was shocked.

"From now on, Gus," Henry spoke up, "You guys are doing background checks on your clients. I don't care if you have to hire _me _to do them…they're being done."

Gus didn't seem to hear his friend's father. "Ben was…?"

"Crazy as a bag of hammers." Carlton wouldn't look at him as he spoke, but instead merely pointed at his stack of papers in front of them.

Gus didn't bother to look at the papers. The proof was in the pudding, and the pudding was his best friend lying injured in a hospital bed. Still, the truth was hard to swallow.

Juliet frowned, "Sorry, Gus."

The apology seemed to do nothing for him. Eyes staring ahead, he couldn't wrap his mind around the words he'd just heard. The same man he and Shawn had become such good friends for, if only for a short while, had been someone completely different than whom they thought. He didn't know if he felt hurt, shocked, disgusted or just moot to the whole deal.

Maybe, like Lassiter, he was just too tired to deal with his emotions.

Chief Vick's voice brought them back to focus. "Okay, as great as this information is, it still doesn't explain what happened between the time Garber was taken out of the hospital and where we are now." She said.

All heads either bowed to the floor, or looked in another direction.

Karen sighed, "Detective O'Hara?"

"I'm…sorry, Chief, but I was hauled out by staff before I knew anything serious was going on." Juliet admitted.

Buzz nodded his head, "Amd I-"

"And Buzz," Juliet interrupted, "was taken downstairs to be treated for his injuries. Gus, where were you?"

As if remembering the salesman, everyone turned to where he sat, the man having suddenly found the Arboricola floor plant to be the most interesting object in the room.

"Bathroom. Puking. So much blood…"

Juliet's eyes widened, though not surprised she was a little taken aback. "Ahhh."

A beat of silence fell over the group before Vick stepped in once more.

"Henry?" She directed her words to the eldest and retired detective.

Shrugging, Henry didn't have a lot to offer. "Karen, I told you – Shawn's sutures ripped open and he began to bleed out again."

Tired, cranky, and ready to go home, the Chief wasn't close to letting that be the final answer she heard.

"Okay…how about some detail on that statement?"

Henry perked an eyebrow. "And how so?"

Karen returned the look.

"Pick up where Detective Lassiter left off."

Years of wisdom and experience gave Henry the knowledge of when he could still fight a battle, and when he had lost. There was no getting out of this one, and it was obvious to everyone in the room. He sat forward with a sigh.

"The damn kid wouldn't get back in bed…"

* * *

><p>"Yes, yes, tilt-a-whirl." Henry mumbled, "Shawn, bed. <em>Now.<em>"

Though the giggling had yet to cease, it became uncomfortably obvious that Shawn was beginning to lose his footing as they made the eight foot distance to his bed. It almost amazed him how a simple and short distance had since tripled between half-carrying his son, and shuffling away from the mess that had been created in the fight. Henry made sure that if one of them were to trip over the blankets or IV bags, it would be him.

Still, not even halfway to the hospital bed and it made his heart jump at how fast Shawn had paled. Giggling or not, the kid was _not _fine.

With a lopsided grin, Shawn chuckled as his father guided him through the mess.

"Hehe…slip..slip-ar-y. Slip..slipp…" While he fought to find control over his tongue, his eyes having squeezed tightly shut. "Slip…pery. Hardtotalk…"

Henry paused, gripping one arm around Shawn's bicep while keeping the other steady on his shoulder. "Shawn, wh-"

"ENOUGH, Garber!"

His attention was stolen for a moment, only a split second as the the outburst from across the room startled him. His eyes caught sight of Lassiter, the detective fighting against the thrashing scum of dirt that had done all this to begin with. His grip tightened on Shawn's shoulders, steadying the man for a moment while he made sure that the detective had a grip on the situation at hand.

He couldn't deny the desire to leave Shawn and beat the lunatic to a bloody pulp.

It was only when Carlton and Garber were out of the room that he noticed all three nurses who had arrived were on their knees, caring to the freakish blood nose that Officer McNab had going on.

"Sir, sir, just tilt your head-"

"I'md finde, I'md FINDE!"

"_Sir-_"

"Whoa…"

His hearing almost didn't pick it up. Henry was so caught up in the chaos around them that the small, tiny voice that escaped Shawn had gone over his head until the very moment that the man went slack in his arms.

It took approximately 0.3 seconds for his world to collapse.

"Shawn!"

It was 0.1 second for him to realize that Shawn's knees had buckled, and the kid was heading towards the floor at lightning speed.

"Gah-aack!"

It was another 0.1 second for him to _keep _Shawn from hitting the floor at lightning speed, barely getting a grasp under his armpits before the kid had a chance to further bruise himself up.

And the other 0.1 second? He'd remember that moment as clearly as when he had seen Shawn for the first time after the hit and run, when the kid was so near deaths door that the doctors had prepared them for the worst.

He'd remember it so well because Shawn looked practically the same right now as he did then. That scared him more than the fear he felt racking through his body just minutes before, running through the hospital like a mad-man to reach his son.

Shawn swallowed hard, no doubt harder than any human should have to. "Da..d."

Shit.

As Henry fought to bring Shawn upright, the kid nothing but deadweight in his arms, he noted every little detail he could.

Pale, cold and clammy skin, shaking limbs, hard breathing -

'_Shit.'_

"Shawn? Shawn, damn it, come on kid." Henry was almost positive that his son couldn't even hear his voice anymore, but he wasn't about to let the kid pass out on a cold hospital floor.

In a rushed struggle, they both managed to make their way to the hospital bed, where he waited until Shawn was back on the mattress before he let his nerves and panic take over.

His scream echoed the hospital room

"**I need a doctor**!"

Maybe it was the shake in his voice, or the way he shouted so loudly even the staff downstairs could hear him, but the pile of nurses who so bluntly ignored them before finally seemed to pay attention to the issue at hand.

"Sir, what is it that I can help with?"

Henry didn't even let her finish the last word before he interjected.

"Get his doctor. Now." Henry demanded, his finger pointing out the wide-open door not far from them.

Slightly insulted, the red-haired nurse tried to step forward. "Sir, I'm perfectly capable of-"

"Doctor. NOW."

Henry wasn't too sure what made the nurse realize how serious he was. Perhaps it was his threatening tone, or the suddenly deteriorating condition of his son, but nonetheless, he was thankful for it. In that moment, he watched as her eyes bugged out of their sockets and she rushed out of the room in haste, though not before jostling one of her co-workers into realizing what was happening right behind them.

The second nurse seemed to realize it too. It was then Henry realized it hadn't been his threatening voice.

"Sir, lay him back. Now!" Her voice cried almost as loudly as Henry had just seconds before. "NOW!"

Henry, slightly startled, fought to find the switch on the bed that reclined the mattress. Luckily, the nurse was in action before his mind could even comprehend that she had gone from McNab to them as quickly she did.

As Shawn was reclined in the bed, it hit Henry like bricks at what had caught the nurses, though not his, attention.

"Cindy, why aren't the alarms going off!" Nurse two shouted, fiddling with the wires surrounding Shawn. "Damn it – sir! Get him to open his eyes, we need his eyes open."

Henry gulped, his ears ringing so loudly that he barely heard what the nurse had said. His attention was only focused on two things – his son's lips and fingernails, both turning blue as the ocean.

"Sir!"

He snapped back. "H-He just collapsed. He started to feel out of it and he-"

"Okay, I understand." She held her patience together, eyes never looking up from the wires she handled. "But I need you to get him to open his eyes."

"Shawn, son – come on." Henry didn't hesitant to gently grip Shawn's quivering jaw, startled at the coolness that radiated off his skin. "Come on, son. Don't do this to your old man, not twice in a row. Shawn-"

A voice interrupted the chaos.

"Okay folks, what do we have going on here?"

Henry spun towards the sound, eyebrows darting down in confusion at the new comer in the room. Dressed in a white lab coat was a middle-age man, probably not much older than himself judging by the salted colored hair he carried.

Between all that his nerves had encountered not only in the past week, but in the past five minutes, Henry didn't bother to bite his tongue when he said, "Who the hell are you?"

"Hi, yes," The doctor nodded in his direction as he helped the nurse with hooking Shawn back up to the monitors. "My name is Doctor Cade. Is Shawn here still conscious; can we get a responds out of him?"

"Wait, no," Henry shook his head, "Doctor Anderson is his doctor."

"Doctor Anderson _was _his doctor. Your son is under my care now, and it's very important that you help me-"

Henry cut him off, "I'm sorry; you'll have to excuse me, but considering the fact that a lunatic ran through this room and tried to kill my son, I hope you understand my hesitance towards anyone claiming that-"

This seemed to catch Doctor Cade off guard. "Where the hell is security!"

"Blood pressure is dropping further, doctor!" A nurse retorted.

"Find me a reason why, nurse." He looked back at Henry, a forced smile on his face. "You're his father, right?"

Henry nodded.

"Mr. Spencer, your son was put under my care last night. I can guarantee you that it was done for his best interest, but as I do that I'll be needing your help."

Call it instincts, but as confused as he was, Henry not only believed the doctor, but decided to trust him.

"How?"

Doctor Cade began untangling the blankets near the end of the bed. "I need Shawn's attention; can you get that for me?" He asked, all the while removing the sheets and blankets until Shawn's bare legs were revealed, his body only covered loosely in a blue hospital gown.

Henry fought off a sigh. He refused to be defeated, but the kid was impossible to wake up any other day of the week – he held doubt that he could do anything in this situation.

Yelling never did anything for the kid. He could yell until China heard every word he said and it'd do neither of them any good. His words always went one ear and out the other – to this day he never knew how to get through to the kid.

"Shawn…" Henry forced a deep breath, refusing to let his voice shake anymore. "Kid, I know you can hear me. Come on, just…do me a favor and open your eyes."

Leaning over the bed, Henry's had his face placed mere inches from where Shawn laid back, the two so close that he could practically feel the puffs of air that escaped through his son's nose.

He brushed back a strand of hair, "Come on, kid. You can do it."

One eyelid, then the other slowly but surely started to peer open. Just when Henry was absolutely positive that there were small slits between each lid, and just when he was sure that he had gotten through to his son, the sound of blaring and piercing alarms shocked him into jumping back.

"Jesus!" Henry hissed. He looked up, glaring at the doctor who still had his finger on the switch to the machine's power button.

Doctor Cade mumbled, "Sorry, Mr. Spencer." The words held very little sympathy to them, rather his eyes stayed focused on the machinery with an expression that Henry didn't like.

Yet again, he didn't need a look to tell him something was wrong. Even without the blaring alarms, the nurse paging surgery for a clear room, and the sudden rampage of extra staff in the room, he could tell you something was wrong.

"Get a surgery room prepped, ASAP!"

"Page Doctor Briggs, let him know we're on our way!"

"Shawn, you there?" Doctor Cade's voice was louder than normal, the volume finding its way over the panicked nurses while he spoke as if his patient had his ears plugged.

There was a pause, and then…

"Mhmmm..." Dry and cracked lips barely split apart, "Ela…phan...t…ca…'t…Gus…da..d..."

Shawn's head lolled to the side, his teeth still chattering with a cold that ran only through his bones.

"I'm right here, Shawn." Henry gripped his son's shoulder, the only part of him not being invaded by hospital staff. He looked up, concern flowing through his eyes. "Doctor?"

"The stitches inside Shawn's stomach have ripped open." Doctor Cade explained, working between talking to the father and unlocking the hospital bed wheels for transportation. "He's currently bleeding out again and very heavily at that. We need to get him back into surgery and fix it."

Henry shook his head. "But what-"

As they began to wheel the bed outside the room, tracking trails of blood and saline with them – and was that a gun on the floor? Regardless of what surrounded them, Doctor Cade kept his eyes locked on the father.

"I understand that you're confused, Mr. Spencer, and I promise to explain everything more later on. But right now, I need you to step aside and go to the waiting room."

His mind reeling a thousand miles per hour, Henry would've loved the chance to say more. If the scene hadn't ended so abruptly, he probably would've kept the doctor's attention for another twenty minutes. And yet, the hallways were empty before he could even blink.

He wasn't sure how long it was until he realized that he was standing in the middle of the corridor. Surely it was anywhere between a minute to thirty, though he didn't care. Once he realized that he was no longer in the hospital room, and it finally clicked with him that Shawn had been taken away, he slowly came back down to reality.

Two looks around him and Henry came to the realization that Gus and Detective O'Hara weren't anywhere in sight.

One more look and he saw Officer McNab seated down the hall in the 'family waiting area', where two kids who once occupied the space insisted on handing the nurse that treated Buzz with an unnecessary amount of Kleenexes.

He walked up, though not entirely sure what to say at first. Through the black eye, and around the nurse's hands that fiddled with his broken nose, Buzz saw the father and immediately thought the worst.

"Mr. Spancear?" His garbled voice choked out.

"Buzz…" Henry felt his shoulders drop with the sigh that fell out of his mouth. "Thank you."

It was the only words he could find.

For a moment, Henry wished that he could say more to the man that saved his son's life. But as, through the broken bones and bleeding nostrils Buzz grinned ear from ear, he knew nothing else needed to be said.

* * *

><p>Karen gaped, struggling to find her breath again.<p>

"Oh, my god."

She knew that _something _had gone down, both before Garber was arrested and after. However, hearing it in detail set her heart sinking to her legs. She stared at Henry, her eyes wide as saucers while he simply stared down at his own hands, making it obvious nothing more needed to be stated.

The room went eerily quiet, if only for a moment.

She dared to ask, "And Shawn?"

Henry put his hand in the air, stopping her from going further. "Like I said – fine. The kid will be sore as hell, having been gutted like a fish twice in one week…but he'll recover. "

Even Carlton couldn't keep his face from grimacing. He hated to think about what Spencer had coming for him, and no doubt everyone else felt the same way.

Still, after a week of confusion and stress, it was a small relief to know the future ahead of them was planned out. Sure, it was filled with recovery and a lot of paper work on the detective's end, but it was better to know what was to happen than have no idea.

They couldn't imagine what would've happened if they hadn't pushed to solve the case.

Chief Vick shook off the shock and exhaustion from her mind, focusing back on the reports laid out on the table in hopes of picking up where she had left off.

"Officer McNab," She looked up, eyes staring directly at the wide-eyed office, half his face covered in bandages. "You were taken off watch guard duty 8 pm last night. Mind explaining what you were doing in Shawn Spencer's hospital room when all this happened?"

Buzz didn't hide his attempt to fight the grin that threatened its way onto his face. He meant no disrespect to the Chief whatsoever, but as Gus had stated, the immense amount of luck in their situation still had his stomach in butterflies.

Carlton shot a look down his way, "That's a damn good question, McNab. What the hell were you doing there?"

Buzz smiled. "Well…buth Gus amd I tapled it ovar and-"

Gus rolled his eyes, quickly interrupting. "It was around midnight last night, Chief…"

* * *

><p>'<em>12:36…' <em>Gus let his arm fall down to his side with a loud 'thud', vowing not to look at the watch on his wrist again until either the sun rose over the horizon, or he was held at gun-point for the time.

He had only been sitting on the bench outside the ER entrance for an half an hour, and yet it felt like a lifetime. Granted, it wasn't nearly as bad as the time he spent tossing and turning in bed, but at this point, running on barely any sleep he'd probably kill a small animal for a good night's rest.

Not to mention, there was something about hospitals that Gus was starting to dislike.

He couldn't pin the reason exactly; maybe it was the impersonal staff, the rush of emergency, or just the remembrance of his best friend laying half-dead surrounded solely by machines that kept him alive that haunted his memory. Regardless of the reason, as he sat outside the hospital, sipping on a steaming hot cup of flavorless coffee, he couldn't stop thinking about how his joy for the medical field had suddenly dimmed to a dying spark over the past week.

To make matters worse, after the incident with Shawn's doctor earlier that afternoon, he had lost a great amount of respect he once had for hospital staff. Even the nurses seemed colder to him now. He was too tired to pin his feelings on the doctors – Doctor Anderson to be specific.

'_I should've never let Shawn take that altitude test for me.' _Gus solemnly thought. _'I never want to come back to this place again.'_

He almost chuckled at the memory of sophomore year in high school, career day leading Shawn to take every test possible from sponsors like the Army to Coastal Pharmaceuticals, all of which under different alias of course. He couldn't deny the slight interest he had found when the company called him back the next week. Abigail, however, wasn't too fond of Fountain Pen Repairments harassing her for a job placement.

"Gus?"

The voice brought through his fog.

Gus shot his head up, looking to his left where the sound came from, and a familiar figure stood.

"Buzz?" Gus had squinted his eyes to make sure that exhaustion wasn't playing a trick on his mind. "What are you doing here?"

Giving a small but forced grin, McNab took a seat on the bench next to the salesman. "I could ask you the same thing. It is past midnight, after all. Detective O'Hara told me you and Mr. Spencer went home."

Gus didn't hide the deep sigh that escaped his lungs. He stared down at the foam coffee cup between his hands, unaware that for a moment he found the steam emitting through the lid to have stolen his attention.

"Yeah, well…after the third hour in bed, I kind of figured out that I wasn't going to be sleeping tonight."

"Ah, you too, huh?"

Gus didn't need to look up from the ever-fascinating coffee to hear the sympathetic smile that spoke through Buzz's words. It never ceased to amaze him how the officer held his spirit together even through roughest of situations. He had watched the man stretched to his very thinnest since taking watch-guard duty over Shawn's room and on numerous occasions even seen the cracks split through his broken being.

And yet he still, somehow, held it together. It took all this happening for him to open his eyes, but Gus finally saw something in Buzz that only Shawn could see at one point. That thought alone made him feel closer to the officer, in a twisted 'we're both going through this roller-coaster' sort of way.

"I feel more at use here than at my apartment…even though I can't go near Shawn's room." Gus cocked his head over, scoffing slightly. "You don't have to tell me; it's stupid."

Buzz's grin showed his pearly white teeth. "Hey, look at who you're talking to. I'm not exactly Officer McNab right now."

It had taken those words for realization to dawn on Gus. He finally looked over at the officer, who in fact was dressed in jeans and a dark, ruffled button down. Having been so used to seeing McNab in uniform over the past days, his eyes hadn't even noticed that the man was in his streets, past midnight, here at the hospital with him.

"Juliet told me." It was all Gus needed to say. His words dripped with disbelief that he tried to hide, but so obviously failed at.

When Juliet had spoken to him, along with making him promise that Henry wouldn't hear a single word of the fact, he hadn't believed it. They all knew that Buzz was risking his entire career by going against the Chief's order. At the very least offence, he'd have a black marker on his record for life.

So, it was understood why he hadn't believed it at first.

"Are you really planning on staying the night again?"

Buzz leaned back against the brick wall behind them as he crossed his legs in a casual position.

"I plan on staying until this guy is either caught, or Shawn is discharged." Buzz said, "And I've made that decision long ago. So don't try to talk me out of it like Detective O'Hara."

Gus almost laughed at the idea of even _trying _to do as much. He had known Buzz long enough to know that he related to Shawn in more ways than just his bubbly personality. The guy could be as stubborn as a mule, and this proved it.

"How much trouble you going to get in for that, Buzz?"

"Who knows." Buzz shrugged uncaringly. "Something in my gut tells me to do this, though. Maybe its Shawn having rubbed off on me, but….I'm not backing down."

There was no doubt Shawn had rubbed off on him. However, Gus knew that this wasn't about that. It's why he didn't fight or protest it. Sure, he wanted to – when Shawn found out that Buzz's tainted his record over him, he'd have a cow on Gus for allowing it to happen.

But, unknowingly, they held the same gut feeling. It's why Gus was here past midnight, uselessly sitting outside the hospital drinking his millionth cup of coffee that day. And it was why Buzz sat by his side, his statement already prepared for when he called out of work the next day while disregarding the Chief's orders.

Now if only gut feelings could give them answers.

Gus finally broke the silence.

"How long have you been here?"

"Eh, not long." Buzz answered, "About an hour or so. Just been walking around, trying to clear my head…"

Gusnodded, no words needing to be said.

The parking lot sounds surrounded them for a good handful of minutes, a few more people coming and going with cigarettes having been put out and phone calls having ended.

It was after the second car alarm that sounded that Buzz finally spoke up.

"Is it true, Gus?"

Gus's tiredly looking over, slightly confused.

Buzz continued, "That they kicked Mr. Spencer out?"

"Yeah, uh…" Gus repositioned himself, fighting off the sleep in his eyes. "They did. For the night, anyways."

Like Gus's disbelief had been turned to reality just moments before, Buzz found himself shocked at something he knew was true, but didn't want to believe.

"Unreal." Buzz grumbled, the shake in his head slowly being a full-forced vent of anger. "That is just unreal. It's a complete invasion of patient privacy!"

Gus blinked, taken aback by Buzz's outburst.

"Yeah, well…I told Shawn years ago he needed to put his father down as his proxy. I warned him, if it came down to paying his bills or pulling the plug-"

"No, no – I mean, yeah, I understand the proxy thing." Buzz explained, slightly apologetic to having interrupted Gus. "The whole thing though, with the painkillers? That doctor was on a serious power trip, Gus."

Gus furrowed his eyebrows. "Doctor Anderson?"

Buzz nodded his head.

"Nah." Gus waved it off. "Sure, he went a little 'do or die' for the moment, but he doesn't seem all that bad of a person. He's put up with Mr. Spencer this long – that takes serious patience."

This didn't seem to sit well with Buzz. "It's still wrong, Gus. I'm sure he's a great guy outside of this hospital…but it isn't fair what he did to you."

Gus couldn't argue with that statement, and he didn't even bother trying to defend the doctor further. Instead, he took another sip of his coffee that had slowly become more nauseating as time passed by.

He hated thinking about this afternoon. It made him sick to his stomach to see his best friend in such a drug-induced haze, panicking and struggling to comprehend smallest detail. Shawn had _never _struggled to take in his surroundings. Even duct-taped to a chair with a bullet wound in his shoulder, he was able to recite everything down to the amount of pens on Longmore's desk.

It was a side of Shawn he never wanted to see again. He really didn't want to remember that afternoon.

"What do you know about patient privacy laws, Gus?"

Sadly, Buzz wasn't about to drop the subject so easily.

"Huh, what?" Gus rubbed the back of his neck, fighting off the memory. "I-I know the basics, but…"

"It's just…you probably know more than me, that's all. I know what I need to know as a cop, and I'm sure you know what you know from…well…yeah."

Buzz decided to leave the conversation at that. His fingers drummed aimlessly on his knee, himself having found the overweight man in the corner puffing down a cigarette to be more interesting than the uncomfortable silence that had fallen between Gus and him.

Gus, however, was focused on something else.

"Well…looking back on it, he shouldn't have forced a decision at that time." He mumbled, his memory reciting most of what he had learnt over the years. "If Shawn doesn't want the painkillers, the doctor has no choice but to respect that and discuss other options."

Interest having been peaked at Gus's muttering, Buzz found himself looking over at the salesman.

"But if I wanted to fight it, I'd have to take it up with the dean, and all these politics are involved and…" Gus shook his head. "I'm just tired, Buzz. I really don't want to deal with that."

If there was anything that he understood at that point, it was exhaustion. Buzz nodded his head, the conversation ending on that note.

Though they both would've loved to return to their pointless train of thoughts, the two suddenly found themselves immersed in the trapped bubble they had created. It was why Gus had avoided the thought for most of the day – once it was brought up, there was no avoiding it. Just like the sight of Shawn on life support, it was something he either held out of sight, or obsessed over until he drove himself into a bright, white room.

Of course it would be Shawn to drive him insane – literately insane.

"What if…"

Gus straightened his posture, and if only for a moment he entertained a crazy thought that had caught his interest.

Buzz glanced over, "Hm?"

The connection of insanity made no sense to his new thought process.

Gus shook it off, "Nah, it's nothing."

Buzz didn't miss a beat. "No, what?"

"You don't think…" He swallowed through the dryness that invaded his throat. "There couldn't be a possibility this doctor is in on the attempted murder….could there?"

Buzz had heard a lot of crazy things in the past week. The craziest, aside from having watch-guard duty taken off of a man that was still under extreme threat for being attacked, was a woman of three children being a possible suspect for his attempted killer. Out of all the crazy things he had heard, this didn't come close to being one of them.

"We're at the point it could be _anyone, _Gus."

For a moment, Buzz saw Gus deep in deliberation, a thought process so heavy that he was amazed his exhausted mind could handle such work.

After less than a minute, the man shook his head once more.

"Nah. Like I said, it'd take days to fight this."

Gus looked over just as Buzz smirked – a true, genuine smile that lit up his eyes in a way he'd only seen long before all this had happened. The officer reached into his jean pocket with a cocked his eyebrow.

"Not if you have one of these…"

Though Gus was too exhausted and stressed to truly smile, there was no denying the tug of content that pulled at his lips as Buzz flashed his badge. It was almost theatrical as the overheard lights had caught a reflection and shined a reflection across the letters 'SBPD'

Gus gave the side of his nose a flick, his stomach flipping in a way that only happened when he and Shawn were about to start another stupid and wild case.

"Yeah?"

Buzz nodded.

"Let's go get Shawn a doctor that he deserves."

* * *

><p>"<em>That<em>..." Henry sat back, "Would explain a LOT."

Karen shot the father a look that screamed 'well no _duh, _Captain Obvious', but otherwise kept her lips shut.

"Well, that would explain what you were doing there, McNab," Carlton looked over at the officer, "But what the hell made you think Spencer was in trouble? _We_ had been seeing Garber around all week, what's your reasoning?"

Buzz paused, as if it was the first time he had actually thought about the question – which could very well be a possibility.

Finally, he shrugged. "I…dwon't knaow. A fweelaing, I guezz."

Carlton scoffed. "Don't tell me you're pulling this physic BS on me too, McNab."

Once again, Buzz could only shrug.

"Gus, how'd you…" Henry fought to find the right words. "What'd you say to get his doctor replaced? And why didn't you tell me?"

"The _truth. _And I didn't know if Doctor Anderson was still going to be Shawn's doctor when we got there this morning. We were told that he had the morning off and the dean said he'd have the problem worked out by the afternoon."

Juliet's eyes widened. "You guys actually reached the deanof medicine?"

"Oh yeah. And he was not happy." Gus explained, "Especially when he found out this wasn't the first time Shawn's had this kind of reaction to medicine before."

Karen couldn't stop curiosity from shining through. "Like when, Mr. Guster?"

"Just when he-…"

With the sudden wrath of a Spencer's eyes boring a hole through his skin, Gus bit his tongue before anymore could be said. If Shawn's father knew about –

He looked over and found Henry glaring daggers his ways.

Too late.

"Just when he had his…motorcycle accident…" Gus bowed his head, mumbling, "All three…accidents."

There was a wide-spread of silence as this information fell to the floor, no one daring to utter a word in caution of setting off the bomb that was Henry Spencer.

Buzz was the first once to make a move – that move being pushing his chair a few inches back and away from the group surrounding him.

Henry never said a word, though. He simply continued to stare at Gus, and it didn't take a mind-reader to know that everything was being said through that mere expression.

Karen finally poured water on the blazing fire. "Alright, so, the only thing I have yet to know is…"

She turned to McNab, "Officer McNab, what happened just before you confronted Benjamin Garber?"

As Buzz opened his mouth to speak, Henry never let his eyes falter from Gus.

* * *

><p>After a quick power nap, one that left him with a stiff neck and back, Buzz emerged from recovery unit's bathroom slightly more refreshed and awake than when he had entered.<p>

Quickly glancing at his watch as he made his way down the hall, he mentally noted that Henry and Gus were most likely going to arrive within the half an hour once visiting hours started up. He could only hope that Gus had found a small amount of sleep since having left around five am, even if it was unpleasant and constantly interrupted like his was.

The good news was, the hospital security he had befriended over the past few days not only had no problem with him bumming outside Shawn's room, but seemed to encourage it. At one point over the night he got into a small game of black jack with one of the guards before the man was forced back to duty. The bad news? The nurses weren't too content with him breaking visiting hour rules.

Buzz knew there were only so many times he would be able to flash his badge before they called the department on him. Hopefully he got to the Chief before they did.

"_Doctor Anderson, please report to radiology. Doctor Anderson to radiology."_

Still wiping his damp hands on the fabric of his pants, Buzz seemed to freeze in his footsteps. Did he just hear the intercom right, or was his mind finally playing tricks on him? He quickly found his way to the nurses' station down the hall.

"Excuse me?" Knowing that his charming grin would get him nowhere, Buzz had one hand ready to flash his badge as the nurse looked up at him, annoyance made clear in her expression.

"Yes?" She answered.

"Are…are there, by any chance, more than one Doctor Anderson's in this hospital?" Buzz found himself pointing overhead at the ceiling, "I ask because I spoke with the Dean of Medicine last night, and he informed me that Doctor Anderson of the Intensive Care Unit would be off until late this afternoon. He's my friend's doctor and I just…want to make sure I don't get doctors mixed up."

The nurse didn't even need to look through her files or computer system. She merely shook her head, "Nope, just one Anderson. We had another that worked in the maternity department not long ago, but that's past tense. The Doctor you're looking for is being called to radiology. Though who called him, I have no idea. I've never heard that voice before."

Buzz suddenly felt sick. He couldn't put his finger on why, but the feeling crept onto him like the moment he had seen Shawn's mangled motorcycle hidden in the bushes. Something wasn't right.

"That's impossible…" He mumbled to himself, suddenly mulling over all and any possibility's that could be.

The nurse didn't seem to mind when he abruptly walked away, not that he cared to begin with. He found himself heading in one direction, one sole destination in mind.

Walking footsteps turned to a steady, fast pace that before he even knew it turned into a full sprint. Maybe he was paranoid, or more possibility maybe the numerous night shifts had finally caught up with him. Maybe he was about to barge into Shawn's room with fists held high only to find his friend sleeping soundly in his bed.

Or maybe it was something worst.

He wasn't about to take that chance. Something told him this was the moment that he was waiting for, and that very feeling pushed his jog into a run.

When he heard the sound of objects crashing to the ground, Buzz couldn't have run faster.

He threw open the door to hospital room H5BB, the same room that Shawn had been moved to around 1 am last night. If he had his gun on him, there was no doubt it'd be held high in the air at this very moment. Unfortunately, all he had was his confidence to back him up.

"Shut it."

His eyes shot open to the size of the moon.

'_Holy crap, no freaking way.' _Buzz thought.

The man repeated himself. "I said SHUT IT!"

Gun aimed firmly at Shawn, Buzz decided not to take any chances. Slowly he shut the door behind him, his hands held in the air to show no threat of weapons. The unruly and dirty brown beard on the man didn't match up with his brightly bleached blonde hair, and his wrinkled, dirty and sweat stained clothes showed that he hadn't been near a mirror in more than a week. There was a look in his eyes that Buzz didn't dare mess around with – the look of crazy.

He found their guy.

Or more so, the guy found them.

"Hey Buzz…" The greeting didn't come out as a 'Hey, nice to see you!' type of voice, but rather a cautionary tone that Shawn held tightly in his throat. "Do me a favor, would ya? That, uh…that saline is just running right through me. I could really take a leak…right now. Get me that…bed pan over there, okay?"

Buzz noted two things immediately. Shawn was not only conscious, but standing on his own two feet next to the hospital bed, which made the officer feel slightly better about the gun being aimed at the slightly helpless patient.

The second thing he noted was the _gun _held at the patient near the bed.

"Don't you DARE move. Neither of you!" The man shouted with his weapon still aimed, his fingers scratching at his temple. "Just…do as I say. Don't move!"

Gripping the pole to his IV line, Shawn let out a nervous chuckle. "Ben, buddy…I-I really gotta pee here. Just…let me drain the lizard, and then you can shoot me. I just don't want to die and piss myself. Come on man, that's humiliating. Look at me – I'm already wearing a dress. Let me die with some dignity."

Buzz shot his head over to Shawn, shock running through his mind. His mouth formed the same word that ran rapidly through his mind – Ben? Ben Garber?

Shawn gave the slightest nod of his head, one that Buzz knew was meant for him.

Ben seemed frozen in his tracks, still scratching his temple with the gun aimed near Shawn.

"So…Ben…Buzz is going to give me the bedpan over there, okay? You can even aim that…shiny pistol at him to make sure he doesn't pull any sudden moves."

"Absolutely. Totally, that sounds good." Buzz vigorously nodded his head, "Ben – watch my hands. I'm just getting the pan…"

As if on cue, Ben shot his aim over to where Buzz stood, the officer slowly reaching over for the metal bedpan that sat to his left. The slight shake in the crazy-man's hands made his stomach toss with nervousness that apparently not only he felt, but Shawn as well. The tremble of his nerves meant one thing – he was about to lose it.

And Shawn knew that.

With all his might – strength that Buzz found impressive for an injured man, Shawn swung his IV pole at Ben's forearms, hitting just the right spot for the gun to fall from his hands.

"SON OF A-"

Bare feet kicked the pistol across the room and underneath his hospital bed, a heavy grunt escaping through Shawn's mouth at the mere task of keeping himself balanced and stretching his stiff muscles at the same time.

Buzz didn't waste time; he ran forward and tackled Ben to the ground with all his weight, though not before handing Shawn the bedpan that he still managed to bring with him.

"Dude!" Shawn exclaimed. "I didn't actually need to pee!"

Buzz fell backwards as Ben threw a punch at his nose, "Defend yourself, Shawn!"

"Oh. Right." Shawn held the bedpan high over his head. "Ben, I'm sure _someone's _piss has been in this at one point, don't make me – OHFM!"

All it took was one swift kick to his stomach for Shawn to be sent hurling backwards, barely keeping himself upright with only the support of the IV pole he clutched in his hands. To say the pain was immense would be an understatement. Of all times for him to stay conscious since his motorcycle was so purposefully crashed into, this was _not _one that he wanted to be awake for.

The next handfuls of moments were a blur for him. If he had his eyes open, everything was a foggy blur that made it impossible for him to see who was winning the wrestling match occurring on the floor beneath him. His ears felt like someone had stuffed cotton balls in them to block the sounds around him, though every now and then he'd hear a good smack or shout from either man.

It was the gunshot that brought him back to reality.

"SBPD – FREEZE!"

Half-conscious and fading fast, Shawn knew that voice anywhere.

"Holy CRAP, Lassie!"

* * *

><p>"Okay, so…dare I recap…?" The Chief shuffled the papers into a neatly stacked pile below her. "The man that wanted to kill Mr. Spencer – Shawn Spencer – was a former client of Psych with severe bi-polar disorder and schizophrenia that caused him to go postal on both his ex-wife and the guy who revealed she had been cheating on him for years."<p>

She paused, waiting for affirmation from the group. A simple nod from Lassiter was all she needed to continue.

"And then to hide his identity, he had been dying his hair so that no one could figure out it was him causing this mess. However, because of Shawn's text message clues and the remembrance both Lassiter and Henry had of the same truck that had been around town all week, you were able to figure out, with his ex-wife's help, that he was the one behind the attempted murders. Am I still on the right track?"

"Sounds right, Chief." Juliet answer.

"So then, after I pulled the guard duty, McNab, you went against my orders to follow your intuition and with extreme luck, managed to catch Benjamin Garber before he murdered Shawn."

Buzz looked anywhere in the room but at the Chief. "Yes, Cteifh, ethwat's cowwect."

Karen sighed, putting the reports aside. "Is there _anything _else I need to be made aware of?"

The type of silence that fell over the briefing room was the same uncomfortable silence that no one would want to break, especially the longer it went on.

Eventually, Gus spoke up.

"Shawn knew about all of this."

Carlton rolled his eyes. "No – no, Guster. I am tired, cranky, and just finished a 2 hour interrogation with a _crazy _man. Don't you dare pull this psychic bull crap on-"

"No, that's not what I meant, Lassiter. Shawn knew as in he just…_knew._" Gus insisted, "He knew it was Garber, and he tried telling us the best he could – with those text messages. Then he tried to tell us before the doctor kicked us out. It's why he didn't want the painkillers. He wanted to pass on the message before it was too late."

Henry rubbed the back of his neck, "Gus is right. I know my son…he knew. He just needed us to know."

Like a dog with his tail between his legs, Carlton backed off the issue. After all, it made perfect sense. While he'd never admit it out loud, the detective had to give the man some credit. Even unconscious Shawn had managed to solve his own case. From the traffic cameras, to the text messages, to the garbled drug-included ramblings….Guster was right, Shawn knew.

"We got there in the nick of time, didn't we?" Juliet's voice was barely above a whisper, the sudden realization falling on all of them that even a minute too late could've changed the entire outcome of not only the case, but a man's life.

Henry nodded his head with a deep sigh. "Yeah…we did."

Karen couldn't handle anymore. She put the reports in a folder and threw open her desk drawer, placing them out of sight, and out of mind.

"I think we've all had enough chaos for the time being." She announced, turning to Lassiter and O'Hara. "Detectives…good job. Get me Shawn's statement and we can finally close this thing – for _good _this time."

Both detectives nodded their head, assuring the Chief such would be done.

"Henry, Gus…" She turned to the two men, "A thousand thank you's. This couldn't have been solved without you both."

Henry waved it off, too tired to explain how he didn't expect nor need a thank you from the Chief, rather he was just relieved his son was finally safe.

Karen immediately turned to the other man, "Gus? Since this was technically a case, with or without Mr. Spencer, you can expect a consultant check by the end of this week."

For a brief moment, Gus's face lit up with happiness that seemed out of place with the dark bags under his eyes and stressed-ridden face. It was short lived as Henry turned over to the man, his hand slapping on his shoulder.

"Yeah…you can expect that money to go straight to Shawn's medical bills, Gus."

And like that, it was as if a kid had his candy taken from him.

"Officer McNab?"

The Chief's voice brought nothing but dread to Buzz.

"Juckst tell iat to be strwaight, Tchwief. Wrieen up, bwlack-marchked, fiweed? Whaet is it?"

Karen shook her head, "To the contrary, Officer. While you did go against my direct orders, I'm very pleased with your bravery and confidence towards the case and the situation you were faced with. You did your job and then some protecting a civilian."

Buzz's swollen and bandaged face managed to show an outline of shock and surprise at her words.

"It'll take a few days to convince the DA to understand what happened, and until we get things settled I'm putting you on a paid personal leave…but I can assure you that you'll still have a job here with the department next week. If it weren't for you, if it weren't for _all _of you," Karen pointed her hand to all five people occupying the room, "This case would've had a much grimmer conclusion than I like to think about. Thank you for your hard work."

With that, Karen spoke two words that sounded like heaven to their ears.

"You're dismissed."

Without missing a cue, Henry shot over to Gus before the man had a chance to lift his butt from his chair. Fingers finding a grip on the collar to his button-down, the father pulled him back into the seat with a 'thud'. Buzz was the first to witness the action, and scampered out of the room to avoid any more confrontation.

Juliet was in serious consideration to follow him.

Lassiter found himself slightly amused.

"Three, Gus?" Henry's anger was impossible to miss. "The last I heard, it was one, and that _doesn't _include this whole mishap."

Gus barely held back his groan of annoyance. If there was anything he hated dealing with the most, it was an angry Henry Spencer, and while he did technically get himself in this mess himself, he was going to make Shawn pay for it.

"Listen, you'll have to get the story from Shawn, Mr. Spencer. I made a vow not to utter a word until one of you was dead."

"A vow or a pink promise?" Henry quirked an eyebrow.

Gus scoffed, "Same thing. Either way…talk to him."

"Not that I don't want to interrupt this lovely conversation here," Carlton winced as he stood up from his chair, stretching his stiff back in the process. "But I wasn't lying earlier when I said I had seen more of you people than I care to admit. If you'll excuse me, I'm going home and reconnecting with my bed."

"That sounds _heavenly_." Juliet muttered, wondering just how long it had been since she had lay down in her own bed and gotten a nights rest. She had to imagine it was around the same time Gus had done as much himself.

And yet, having the case wrapped up and nothing left to do but sleep, the salesman was the last to leave his chair.

"Want to grab some coffee?" Gus spoke up, his attention focused on Henry. "Some _real _coffee."

Henry paused for a moment, as if he was deliberating an answer he already knew. Exhausted, worn to the bone and ready to call it quits for the next six months, he somehow found himself shrugging his shoulders with carelessness.

"Whitby's sound good?"

"You know that's right."

Gus put his fist forward, receiving a look from the father as if he had grown ten octopus legs and started speaking Spanish.

Henry shook his head. "No."

"Come on." Gus whined, "Bump it."

"No." He repeated.

"Come on, bummpp ittt..."

"Gus, I will not be lowered to your and Shawn's immature ac-"

Suddenly, a small and pale fist found its way between the two men, a look go their left revealing that Juliet was the one who collided her knuckles with Gus's.

"There. Happy, Gus?"

"As a matter of fact, I am." Gus replied, "Thank you, Juliet."

There was something about the tone in Gus's voice that made it impossible for her to fight the grin that fell onto her lips.

Maybe it was the carefree innocence that had returned to his spirit, but in that moment, the two friends smiling back at each other, she finally felt like everything was going to be okay. Though not perfect, and not the way it was…she could smile again. And that made it okay.

"Are you in, detective?"

The voice breaking through her fogs, Juliet looked over at Henry with surprise.

"What's that?" She blinked, processing the question. "Oh I don't know. I should really…I mean…"

Henry tilted his head slightly to the side, unknowingly giving the same charming look that she always saw in Shawn when he wanted her to do something with her. If she wasn't so exhausted, she probably would've laughed at the sight.

"What the hell. Count me in."

"You have fun with that." Carlton mumbled, passing by the trio on his way out. "O'Hara, see you in the morning. Henry, Gus – hope not to see you for weeks."

"You know you want to, Carlton." Juliet called out, causing the man to stop in his footsteps.

"No, as a matter of fact I don't." Carlton replied.

Gus chimed in, "Come on Lassie. Don't be a party pooper."

The growl was low and deep and probably unheard by the three, but as Lassiter turned around, he gave a stare that could probably kill little children. Forced between his comfy, soft and relaxing bed or staying awake for another three to four hours wasn't a choice he wanted to make.

Henry saw the man's deliberation, and he gave a simple shrug as they headed out of the briefing room. "You're more than welcome to join us, Lassiter. Or not. It's up to you."

With that, the Chief and Officer McNab having left prior to them, Carlton was the last to make his way out of the room.

He found himself pausing for just a moment as he closed the door, finding it hard not to remember just a week ago when the case had started up and he was in this very spot, fate being unsure if they'd even catch the guy behind it all, and if Spencer would make it out alive. More importantly, he remembered the suffocating feeling of if things would be radically different in his life when he woke up the next morning.

Finally shutting the door, it was hard to deny the resolution he found at knowing tomorrow morning, he'd wake up to a better world. One more lunatic criminal put in jail, and another victim having found justice.

Tired eyes watching as Henry, Gus and Juliet walked together down the station hallways, Carlton's car keys rolled between his fingers with pointless deliberation. Eventually he made his way out of the department and into his Crown Vic, ready for a deep sleep that would welcome him at home.

If he just so happened to wind up at Whitby's before that, well, it would be because they did have some good coffee.


End file.
